Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
by FlashFiction
Summary: When a teenage girl is killed in Salem, Massachusetts, the BAU is sent to investigate. But this isn't a straight forward murder. Once they uncover the mysterious Salem Institute, they realise that things are more complicated than they could've imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at writing something other than a fully Harry Potter story. I know it's been done before but I thought I'd give it a crack. Reviews are love :) Please enjoy!

**Chapter One **

Penelope Garcia stood in front of the screen, flicking through the pictures that had been sent to her from the Salem, Massachusetts police. She still couldn't believe it, even though she'd looked through the case files several times. She brushed a curly strand of blonde hair off her face and pushed her glasses up her noses. The sooner the rest of her team got here, the sooner she could get the mental images out of her head.

The first BAU member to arrive was Aaron Hotchner, dressed in a black suit, accessorizing with his ever present expression of seriousness. He walked in, smiled and sat down.

"Garcia." he said, nodding his head forward. "Good weekend?"

"Just fine," Garcia said, "until my film noir evening was interrupted by this freak show."

"The case is that bad?" Hotch asked. "Can I take a look at the file?"

"You know the rules, Sir." Garcia smiled. "No sneak peaks allowed."

The next member to arrive was David Rossi, who sauntered in, his suit jacket over his left shoulder.

"And you are almost on time!" Garcia said. "I'm genuinely impressed."

Rossi made a face and sat down.

"What have we got that's pulling us in at this hour?"

"We're waiting for the rest of team before we begin." Hotch said.

"Garcia is not telling you anything, is she?" Rossi asked.

"No, she is not." Hotch replied.

Eventually the other members filed in; Derek Morgan, wearing a t-shirt; Spencer Reid, his short, brown hair ruffled, suggesting he had been sleeping; Emily Prentiss, entirely in black; and, finally, Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau, her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail.

"Sorry I'm late." JJ said. "I ran into some traffic on the way here."

"Traffic?" Morgan said skeptically.

"Yes." JJ said. "You got an issue with that?"

"Oh come on, JJ!" he grinned. "That's the biggest piece of crap along with "the dog ate my homework""

"Excuses, valid or not, aside," Garcia interrupted, "we are all here and I am ready to begin."

She consulted her clip board.

"Our vic is a sixteen year old girl, name of Amber Kersley, according to a card in her wallet. She was found outside a bunch of warehouses in down town Salem, Massachusetts by a couple of students."

"Why have the police sent for us?" Hotch asked. "Is she connected to any other killings?"

"Not as far as anyone has identified." Garcia said. "The local police called us in because we deal with the freaky stuff and this, my friends, is the definition of freaky. Those of you with sensitive stomachs, may want to avert your eyes because these pictures are a little bit nasty."

She took a deep breath and clicked the remote in her hand. On the screen beside her, some pictures popped up. A girl lay sprawled on the pavement, well, what was left of a girl. Her face was slashed to pieces, the long, dirty cuts snaking from her forehead down across her torso. The front of her chest was missing, pink flesh and creamy coloured bones all she had left. Most of her scalp had been pealed back from her skull, her blood stained blonde hair hanging from a grey flap. Cuts and scrapes covered most of her body. It wasn't pretty. Her bag, pink and sparkly, had been thrown across her, untouched. It was serene in a mocking kind of way.

Prentiss and Rossi both leaned back in their chairs, JJ put her hands to her temples and Morgan whispered "_nasty_." Reid leaned a little closer.

"What can do that to a person?" he asked.

"An animal, maybe a dog or a wolf?" Hotch suggested.

"Good thought." Garcia nodded. "Forensics took a look at the body and the wounds look like they could have been made by claws and a pair of very sharp teeth."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Reid said, cocking his head to one side. "Look at the ground around her. With wounds like that you would expect a certain amount of blood but the concrete is almost clean."

"Maybe the body was dragged after it was killed?" said Prentiss.

"No, there would still be an obvious trail of blood." Reid said. "And look at the bag. Apart from a stain on the bottom, that probably will turn out to be our vic's blood, it's in pristine condition. No marks, nothing."

"You're right." Rossi nodded. "An animal couldn't have taken that much care. The bag should have been torn to shreds."

"Besides," Morgan added, "how many wolves do you know that hang around down town warehouses?"

"Certainly not ones that clean up after themselves." JJ agreed.

"Forensics also found cuts that were too deep to be made by any kind of animal." Garcia said.

"Wolf with a knife?" Prentiss said, raising her eyebrows."Amber was definitely moved by a human unsub, someone who was careful to hide his trail."

"Were the animal lacerations made pre or post mortem?" Hotch asked.

Garcia took a breath, "pre."

The whole room seemed to shiver. They had all seen more than their fair share of murders but this took graphic violence to a whole new level. The same thought was running through all of their minds: Was this a once off or were they looking at a serial killer? And, if so, when was he going to strike again.

"How is that kind of mutilation humanly possible?" Rossi said shaking his head.

"It might not be human." Reid said. "Dogs can be trained to attack people on command. They use them in the military and, in some places, for dog fighting. The unsub could have tortured her with the animals first then finished her off with a knife."

"Who ever was calling the shots," Morgan said, "they must have had some pretty serious problems with Amber Kersley."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

Minerva McGonagall was furious. Furious and scared, not a good combination for a witch of her position and power. She sat in the corner of the room, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Her hair was tied back in a bun and her dark, serious eyes watched as her brother, Robert McGonagall, paced the room. He was frowning, looking confused. Minerva sighed and he spun around to face her.

"Just say it, Minerva!" he yelled. "You've been wanting to since you arrived!"

Minerva sighed again and stood up.

"Fine." she retorted. "The security measures at the Salem Institute are lax and, quite frankly, it was only a matter of time before something serious like this happened! Honestly, Robert, what kind of school has an access system that allows student out of the grounds at any hour of the night?"

Her brother had been right. Minerva had wanted to yell at someone for the lack of security from the moment she set for inside the Salem Institute of Magic. The Institute was housed in what looked to Muggles to be an abandoned warehouse. The students often left the school to mingle and shop in the Muggle world, leaving the school using access cards. The cards also got them back in. All they had to do was swipe them against a star pattern that had been tagged on the outside of the building and they would be admitted. Minerva thought it was a terrible system. She was not from the Salem faculty. Her work place and home was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the UK. Her brother, however, was the deputy headmaster of the Institute and he had persuaded her to arrange an exchange between the two schools. Minerva had resisted, but her staff had pushed into it. And now she was here. And someone had been killed. They now sat in the Headmistress's office, waiting for news.

"The security is supposed to tell us if someone has left the school at night." Robert explained. "That's why we're confused. We can't understand how Amber even got outside."

He sat down in the seat that his sister had just vacated, massaging his temples. Minerva's expression soften a little. She couldn't imagine what it would be like, waking up to find that one of your students had been murdered. Well, that was not quite true. She had seen many students die before her, in the various wars that she had been through. But somehow this was different; in wars you expected it. You kept up constant vigilance, bracing yourself for impact. There was no war in America. This killing had come completely out of the blue. Minerva liked to think that her experience would have helped her, but it didn't; no one was prepared for this. Her first instinct had been to run, to get herself and her students out. But then she realized that her family needed her support. That, however, wasn't going to stop her speaking out when she knew she was right.

"Like I said," Minerva continued, "it's a ridiculous system, I've always said that."

"This is America, Minerva." Robert spat. "We haven't got space to stick a bloody great castle up in the hills! We have to work with what we've got!"

"And the facilities of the school are impeccable." Minerva soothed. "I just think you could put some more enchantments on the warehouse."

"What difference does it make?" Robert sighed, rubbing his eyes. "The girl was found outside the grounds. It makes sense that she was - that she was murdered outside as well. You know teenagers. If they want to go somewhere, they will find a way, protective spells or not."

It was then that the door was pushed open and a woman walked into the firelight. Indira Inkpen, Headmistress of the Salem Institute, was a tall, blonde woman with sharp, grey eyes. She was smart and usually very easy going, but at this moment her face was white and drawn.

"What news?" Minerva demanded, her heart beat speeding up.

"The Muggle police have taken the body." Indira replied. "And don't look at me like that! There was nothing I could've done without being seen."

"Well what are we going to do now?" Minerva cried. "Is there anyway we can take the body back?"

An unapproved attack on Muggles, to retrieve a dead body?" Indira said incredulously. "There is no possible way you can make that sound good."

"Besides, our government would never sanction it." Robert added. "We're not on the best of terms and they're just waiting for an excuse to put us under observation."

"Even if it means risking secrecy laws that have been in place for centuries?" Minerva said, stunned. "That's madness, utter madness."

She turned around to her American counterpart and looked up at her desperately, almost begging.

"We can not let the Muggles keep the girl's body." Minerva whispered. "They would soon work out that something wasn't right. The injuries are not, by their standards, normal."

Indira narrowed her eyes.

"How do you know this?" she asked.

"Rolanda Hooch saw the body while it was first being examined. The site is almost directly below her window." Minerva answered. "She told me she was physically sick. "Wolf" was the one word she used to describe it."

"And how many wolves have you seen wandering around?" Indira scoffed.

"None." Minerva admitted. "Not in the town anyway. But there are some perfect candidates only a little way outside of town."

"The werewolves don't come into the city," Indira said coldly, "if that's what you mean. I won't have this, Minerva. I refuse to have anybody under my roof making prejudiced, discriminative accusations."

"Some of the greatest people I have known were werewolves or relatives of werewolves." Minerva said with dignity and pride. "I am neither discriminative nor prejudiced. I simply know how unpredictable lycanthropy can be. Considering the wounds, I think it would be in our best interests to follow up that line of inquiry, seeing as the Muggle police will not be doing so."

"I do not want to disturb the werewolves." Indira said. "I too am aware of the difficulties, even if I wish to fair towards them."

"If we had the body," Minerva said, "my healer could take a look at it. She would be able to determine whether the bites contained lycanthropy particles."

"I think we should leave it for the time being." Robert interjected. "We can watch the Muggle police go about their business and see what comes of that. It may be that this is a Muggle crime."

But all three teachers knew that could not possibly be the case.

"We will have to do something." Indira sighed. "Eventually. We have no idea what kind of magical evidence was with the body. Her access card, her wand. They can not be found."

Robert nodded in agreement and Minerva muttered something about "lax security" whilst shaking her head.

"And her parents must be informed." Indira continued. "God knows what kind of trouble that will bring us."

"Their daughter has just died." Robert whispered. "I'd be surprised if there was _no _trouble."

And once again they remembered that the body now lying in a Muggle morgue had once been Amber Kersely, a girl that laughed, loved and revered life. A girl that had laughed, loved and revered life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

The plane hummed noiselessly across the lightening sky. The clouds were clearing and soon all that would be left was a cerulean blue canvas. Emily Prentiss turned her head away from the window and joined the conversation.

"If the unsub is using dogs in his MO then we should look for anyone in Amber's life who is connected to the military or police. They would gain the necessary training skills there." Morgan was saying.

"Dog fighting is also an option." Reid added. "Although most animals used in the sport are taught not to harm humans."

"We'll know more when Garcia get back to us." Hotch said.

"Does anyone think it's strange that the local police have given us so little to go on?" Prentiss inquired.

"If the killing is a stand alone case then they might not have gathered very much yet." Hotch replied.

But it did seem odd, to him anyway. He'd never set out on a case without knowing the particulars. It would be a relief when Garcia called. Eventually she did, popping up on the screen wearing a bright purple cardigan and a flower in her hair. It was nice to see something so colourful. The expression on her face, however, was less than reassuring.

"What is it, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"Okay, so you know how I said this case was the definition of freaky?" Garcia said. "Well, things just got a little bit weirder. I ran background on Amber Kersley and I found nothing. Not nothing as in 'nothing that will help', nothing as in 'nothing, zip, zilch, nada'. I searched our database and she's not on there. Not surprising, given her age, but check this. I searched doctor's records, local police records, car registrations, even Facebook. She's not on there."

"A girl her age would definitely be on some kind of social networking site." JJ said and Garcia shook her head.

"She's of school age." Reid mused. "Did you check high schools in the area?"

"First thing I did and none of them have heard of her." Garcia said. "According to all digital records, this kid never existed. The cops haven't even got hold of her parents."

"That's impossible." Rossi frowned. "You can't not leave some kind of trace."

"Not impossible." said Garcia. "Amber Kersley gives "off the grid" a whole new meaning."

Hotch thought for a second and then said, "how was she identified?"

"I thought you would ask." Garcia smiled. "There was a card in her wallet, which the police found in her bag. It gave her name, birthday and appeared to be an access card for some place called "The Salem Institute for the Gifted.""

"That sounds like a school." said JJ.

"Did you ever consider going there, Reid?" Prentiss teased.

"No." Reid said. "I've never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised." Garcia nodded. "The Salem Institute doesn't exist either. I looked for schools, organizations, charities. I even searched up terrorist groups. It all comes up blank. Not one website, nothing."

"Curiouser and curiouser." Rossi said sarcastically.

"We'll just have to treat this like a Jane Doe case." Hotch sighed. "As if we didn't even know her name. We'll throw out the victimology and focus more on the unsub."

"Can we do that?" JJ asked.

"I don't know." Hotch replied.

"Anything involving the MO pop up?" Morgan said.

"A little." said Garcia. "Over the years a few people have gone missing in the Salem area and turned up dead, apparently savaged by wolves or wolf like creatures. But they were all found around the wood areas, nowhere near the warehouses. And the knife wounds weren't factors in any of these cases."

"So we're starting from scratch." JJ said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful." Garcia sighed.

"You're doing the best you can." Hotch reassured her. "Thanks, Garcia."

The plane landed and the BAU team got off and into a black car that took them to the Salem police station. The Sheriff, a round, trustworthy looking man, was there to greet them.

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner." Hotch said, taking the man's hand. "This is Special Agent Rossi, Prentiss, Jareau and Dr Reid."

"Pleased to meet you all." the Sheriff said. "I'm so grateful you could come. No man likes to admit that something's too big for them but has just got us baffled."

"It's perfectly understandable." Hotch nodded. "This case certainly seems to be an unusual one."

"At first we thought it might just be another animal attack." the Sheriff said. "But there were too many things that didn't add up. What does your team want to do?"

"Well," Hotch said, "as there's no one we can interview, I think we had best see the crime scene. Prentiss, JJ and Morgan, you can come with me. Reid and Rossi, you head down to the morgue and talk to the M.E."

There was not much to see at the crime scene. Just a couple of warehouses decorated with spray paint. Hotch was beginning to feel like the whole situation was futile.

"So the body was found lying over there." Hotch said, pointing to a concrete courtyard.

"It's so clean." Prentiss said. "I almost thought the scene had been cleaned up before we got here."

"Are we sure she was dumped?" Morgan asked.

"I don't see any other explanation." Hotch said. "Why?"

"There are no skid marks from tires." Morgan said, indicating to the ground. "The car would have made them, if it was going at sped."

"And it couldn't have been going slowly." Prentiss added. "According to the timeline, the unsub would have been seen by the students that found our vic."

"So there was no car involved?" Hotch said. "But it would be even more unlikely that someone could carry a body unnoticed without some kind of vehicle."

"Unless the kill zone was near by." Prentiss suggested.

"There's still the issue with the blood trail." Morgan said. "Even if the unsub did drag the body from near by, there is no way he could have cleaned up."

"I don't see how he could have done it in any case." Prentiss said. "Everything is pristine! It's like magic!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

The dining hall of the Salem Institute was quiet except for the sound of whispering, a sound that Indira Inkpen was all too in tune with. Most of them would be gossiping and spreading rumors about Amber. Indira shook her head. She wanted to stop it but if she opened up the floor to the subject of the local murder than she would get all kinds of questions that she wasn't prepared to answer. A few faces in the crowd had eyes red from crying, obviously close to the dead girl. Indira turned back to her breakfast which consisted of dry muesli and orange juice. She ate and looked at what her companions were eating. Robert was eating fruit and drinking water. Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts healer, was drinking a tiny cup of strong, black coffee. Minerva wasn't even eating anything.

"You should eat something." Indira said. "Otherwise you'll fade away."

Minerva McGonagall was, however, the last person Indira could imagine fading away. She was the thinest woman Indira had ever come across and yet she had the strongest presence.

"I'm not hungry." Minerva said.

"You're worried." Robert said. "You never eat when you're worried."

"Of course I'm worried!" Minerva snapped, lowering her voice so the students couldn't hear her. "Someone has been killed! Are you sure it's a good idea letting the pupils go out?"

"It's been part of our policy for years, encouraging Muggle/Wizard understanding." Indira said proudly. "If we stop it now, what will people think?"

"People will think you're trying to protect your students!" Minerva exclaimed. "There is a killer still out there!"

"Do you think it will happen again?" Indira asked.

"I don't know." Minerva said, some what irritably. "I'm not a murderer am I? I don't know how they think!"

In hindsight, Minerva decided she was probably being a little harsh. She was about to apologize when Rolanda Hooch, the Hogwart's Quidditch mistress and Septima Vector, the arithmancy witch, walked in, talking quietly. They sat down and Septima said, "there are more people out there."

"Just what we need." Robert sighed. "I thought the police had done their job?"

"These people aren't from the police!" Rolanda said, in an excited whisper. "From what I can gather, they are from the FBI!"

Minerva looked at Indira.

"Is that bad?"

"That's very bad!"

"I saw the body last night!" Septima said. "They obviously worked out that this wasn't a normal killing!"

At this point Poppy Pomfrey broke silence and burst into the conversation.

"Excuse me," she said, "but am I the only person who didn't get a look at the body? I should have seen it first! I could have helped identify the cause of death! I am the only person here with medical experience."

"I don't think anyone needs much help to work out what killed her." Rolanda said darkly.

"Well, what?" Poppy demanded.

"You could start with the dirty, great hole in her stomach," Rolanda said, "and finish with the humongous gashes in her head. It wasn't pretty, Poppy. You should be glad you didn't see her."

"I guess." Poppy admitted. "Have they worked out what was used to inflict the wounds?"

"They're thinking dog or wolf." Septima said. "Something like that."

"Wolf?" Poppy raised an eyebrow. "Have you thought about the -"

"- the werewolves?" Minerva anticipated. "Of course. It was the first thing we thought of. But it doesn't make sense. I mean, the Salem werewolves have been peaceful for years."

"But there's always the occasional mishap." Robert said. "A few lose control and don't mean to do harm anyone."

"I guess." Minerva mumbled. "I still feel like the more I think about it, the less I suspect them."

"Who do you suspect then?" Rolanda asked.

Minerva thought, her brow furrowing. She didn't really want to say, not in front of everyone else. She had come to the conclusion that the killer had to be a human. A human wizard. Since the only wizards she knew of were either Salem students, teachers or their families, it seemed to her that one of them would be guilty. And that was going to hurt a lot of people.

"I don't know." Minerva said slowly. "I don't know."

Indira stared at her, obviously not fooled. But, Minerva could tell, she seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. It wasn't fun, suspecting people who you had worked with for years, but it had to be done.

"What about her access card?" Minerva asked. "And her wand? Is there any news of them?"

"It hasn't been mentioned by the Muggle media," Robert answered, "so I'm guessing not."

Poppy sighed, "it won't be long."

The rest of the morning meal was eaten in silence. Slowly, like the trickle of stream that was drying out, the students, Hogwarts and Salem alike, left the hall and began to amble to their classes. It had been decided that they should continue as normal. Minerva was sharing teaching responsibility with the Salem transfiguration teacher, so she had the morning off. Septima and Rolanda went off, followed by Robert and Indira, leaving Poppy and Minerva by themselves.

"So who do you really think is responsible?" Poppy asked.

"You weren't deceived, then?" Minerva smiled.

Poppy shrugged.

"I've been reading faces all my life. Usually I don't ask questions, but my silence doesn't often end in death."

"The truth is," Minerva said, "that I don't know. But, I suspect, it was most likely somebody close to, even inside, the school."

Poppy nodded.

"Yes." she said. "I'm afraid that I've been thinking that too. If it isn't the werewolves, that is."

"I'd like to believe it was some poor soul who had no control over what he was doing." Minerva sighed.

"But?"

"But I don't."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Back in the world of Muggles, David Rossi and Spencer Reid arrived at the morgue. Though Rossi held a certain affection for his younger co-worker, he was glad to get out of the car. Reid had spent the entire journey emptying out his bag of witchcraft related knowledge. After ten minutes, Rossi felt like he had actually been at the Salem Witch Trials. After 15 minutes, Rossi wished he was being burned instead of the witches.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're not normal?" Rossi asked.

"Several times." Reid nodded. "I figured that they were complimenting my individuality."

"You keep thinking that, Kid." Rossi muttered, walking inside the building.

The morgue was cool and airy, the bright lights reflecting off the white and silver surfaces, making it look like some space age laboratory. Rossi shivered; he had need liked these places. Seeing the dead bodies was one of his least favourite parts of this job. He tried to keep as many people alive as he could. Reid didn't seem to mind it. He enjoyed science and there were plenty of chemicals to keep him entertained. The medical examiner, a middle aged man with brown hair parted in a straight line, was just setting up the bodies.

"Hello." he said, walking around the tables. "You two are with the FBI?"

"This is Doctor Reid and I'm Special Agent David Rossi."

"Doctor Crawley." the M.E. said. "The victim is over here."

He lifted up a white blanket to reveal the remains of Amber Kersley. Rossi shuddered. It wasn't any prettier in person.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"Well," Dr Crawley began, "these tears were made by animal teeth or something similar. They're rough, like what ever did this hacked at the flesh."

"Could the unsub have taken a skull?" Reid asked. "And used it as a weapon?"

"It's possible." Crawley nodded. "There are smaller, cleaner cuts that were made by a knife. The shape and line of the cut suggests no special serration, so I'd say you're looking at a standard cook's knife, about eight inches long, one and a half inches deep."

"Something that most houses in the city will have." Reid said. "He was careful not to use anything that might point to his identity."

"Anything else?" Rossi asked.

Dr Crawley shifted uncomfortably.

"There are some things," he said slowly, "that, how would you say it? Don't add up."

"Like what."

"Like the fact that there are no signs of a struggle." the M.E. said. "If she had put up a fight we would notice the abrasions on her hands. And yet I can't find any evidence that she was bound, knocked out or drugged."

"Maybe she was taken by surprise?" Rossi offered.

"Maybe." Dr Crawley said skeptically. "It doesn't seem very likely. I can't imagine that she wouldn't claw or scratch at her attacker, unless she was drugged or her hands were tied."

"You didn't find anything?" Reid said in surprise.

"Nothing at all." Dr Crawley shook his head.

"Nothing seems to be the magic number in this case." Rossi sighed.

"Let's look at her bag." Reid suggested.

Amber Kersley's bag was pink and leathery, the kind of bag that lots of teenage girls had. Dr Crawley took out the contents, all of which had been placed in separate plastic bags. There were a few pamphlets advertising deals at local cafes, a wallet with some foreign looking coins and...

"Is that the card that was used to identify her?" Reid asked, picking it up and holding it to the light.

The M.E. nodded.

"The mysterious Salem Institute. Apart from that I found nothing that points to who she is."

"Driver's license?" Rossi asked. "Credit card? Cellphone?"

Dr Crawley just shook his head.

"A girl her age would definitely have a cellphone." Rossi said.

"Maybe she left it at home?" Crawley suggested.

"Teenagers live through their phones." Rossi said. "I don't think she would have left it behind. Perhaps the killer took it as a trophy or perhaps it got left at the crime scene."

"Rossi, look at this." Reid called.

He showed his companion the card. It was white, plastic and shiny. Printed in spiky, black letters were the words "The Salem Institute for the Gifted".

"It looks like a plain card." Reid explained. "But when you hold it up to the light at the right angle..."

He did so and a shape was visible. A five pointed star made up the body of the shape. Inside that was a line that went through an oval. The end of the line connected to the top of a triangle, the base corners just touching the bottom points of the star.

"What is it?" Rossi asked. "Some kind of gang or religious symbol?"

"I'm not sure." Reid said. "But I'm positive I've seen it before."

He took out his phone and opened up the photos of the crime scene that Garcia had sent him earlier. He flicked through slowly, his eyes scrutinizing each picture carefully. Then he stopped and zoomed in.

"There." he cried, grabbing Rossi by the wrist and running out to the car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"What are we doing back here?" Prentiss asked. "The crime scene has already been looked at and cleaned up."

The BAU team had piled into their cars and followed Reid (driven by Morgan, much to his distaste) back to the warehouses that they had investigated earlier that day. Reid wasn't saying anything, just checking and rechecking the photo and the card.

"I knew it." he muttered. "I knew it."

The rest of the team had long since given up questioning what the ramblings of the genius were supposed to mean, instead just waiting for everything to be explained.

"We missed something." Reid said, in answer to Prentiss's earlier question. "Something important."

He was walking, as if in a trance, towards one of the buildings. This particular warehouse was a light grey colour, the metal faded from years of sun exposure. The windows were mostly broken, wooden boards, dark and cracking, covering the space where there had once been glass. Like the other warehouses, the sides of the walls had random bits of graffiti on them.

"There." Reid said excitedly, pointing to a spray painted picture.

"Graffiti." Rossi said sarcastically. "It's a revelation."

"No, look at it." Reid said.

The symbol was light grey, almost disappearing against the colour of the walls. The base was a triangle, a straight line jetting out the top, like a volcano erupting. In the middle of the line was an oval.

"I've seen that before." Rossi said, his brow furrowing.

Reid reached in his pocket and pulled out a card; Amber Kersley's Salem Institute card.

"The symbol on the card!" JJ exclaimed, ripping the card from Reid's hand and holding it against the graffiti. "It's almost identical."

"Not almost." Prentiss said. "Exactly."

Prentiss was right. It wasn't just a copy of the mysterious Salem symbol, it was as if someone had taken the card, enlarged it by about fifty and stuck it on the wall. Each dimension was precise and exact.

"And look at where it is." Reid said. "The other graffiti is overlapping but this is all by itself, like someone purposefully cleaned the wall and painted it there."

"So we've established the symbol is the same." Hotch said. "What is the significance of it? Why is it here?"

"Okay, Kid Genius." Morgan said to Reid with a smile. "Do your stuff."

Reid went up the wall and began to run his fingers along it.

"Observe," Morgan whispered, "the genius in its natural habitat. Watch carefully as it uses its problem solving skills to overcome the many challenges of the urban jungle. If you look closely, you can see its little brow furrowed in thought."

JJ put her hand up to her mouth and Prentiss sniggered. Reid didn't seem to notice.

"Give me the card." he said, stretching out his hand.

JJ gave it to him. He held it up and then placed it against the spray painted symbol.

One second the wall was there, the next it was gone, leaving behind a gap that opened up on a set of stairs. Electric lights lined the walls, giving off a dim glow. The BAU stood, not moving.

"What the Hell just happened?" Rossi said, his mouth open in disbelief.

"And where did the wall go?" Prentiss said, her eyebrows raised in confusion.

"How did you know that would work, Reid?" Hotch asked.

"I didn't." Reid frowned. "I just wanted to compare the symbols again."

"So where does this lead?" JJ said, walking forward.

She looked around for some sign of identification, but found nothing.

"I think we'll just have to go down."

"Lead the way." Rossi muttered.

Indira Inkpen walked slowly down the corridor. The morning had been unproductive, spent putting off the task of calling the dead girl's parents. She finally got around to it, doing the best she could not to burst into tears at the shouts of her father and the desperate crying of her mother. It was times like that that Indira wished she was a Muggle. Using a telephone, or what ever they called them, would be so much easier than talking through the fire. She was on her way to Robert's office to tell him about the conversation, when she heard footsteps. Frowning, she walked towards the entrance stairs, her heels clicking against the floor. All of the students who had left the school for lunch had returned for afternoon lessons. The entrance, she thought, had been sealed off. Her wand was concealed in her jacket, the pocket of her blazer enchanted to make it big enough. She made sure she could reach it, before turning the corner.

Hotch walked at the front, with JJ following second. They tried to be as quiet as possible. Each member of the team held a gun, pointed in front of them just in case someone should jump out. They reached the bottom of the stairs and heard the tapping of heels coming from around the corner. The stairs had led them to a corridor. It looked like a normal high school corridor, except for the flaming torches that lined the walls. At least, they looked like real fire. But that was crazy. Wasn't it?

"May I inquire as to what you are doing here?"

A woman stood before them. She was tall, angular, with sharp grey eyes and blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders. She wore a skirt suit, purple pink in colour, with matching heels.

"My name is Aaron Hotcher." Hotch said, stepping forward. "I'm with the FBI."

"That," the woman said, with a flat smile, "was not the question."

"Is this the Salem Institute for the Gifted?" Reid asked.

The woman turned to him.

"Who are you?" she said, somewhat suspiciously.

"That," Reid replied, "was not the question."

The woman smiled again, this time a little more warmly.

"This is, as you say, the Salem Institute for the Gifted." she said. "My name is Indira Inkpen and I run the Institute. And you're... FBI, was it? I suppose it was inevitable. If you'll come this way, we'll talk some where more suitable."

And with that, Indira Inkpen started back down the corridor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Muggles. Muggles, in a wizard school. The statement kept flashing through Indira's mind and she got more and more anxious. Of course, Indira had always encouraged Muggle/wizard relations. She had seen through her life, as had many of the staff at Salem, the horrors that came from prejudice. However, actually inviting some inside was never part of the plan. As she walked, doing all she could to maintain her upright, cool, calm demeanor, she thought of all her possible options.

Option number 1: Tell them all about the magical world and hope that they can make some sense out of it. Indira smiled to herself, then remembered it wasn't the right time for jokes. Option number 2: Lead them all to a broom closet, hex them and hope nobody notices that they're missing. Sheer stupidity. They would most certainly be missed and Indira wasn't the kind for needless brutality. Besides, something like that would give the government license to shut them down for good. Option number 3: Pretend to be a Muggle school and hope that the lie holds. This seemed to be the best choice, no, the only choice. Now the only thing to do would be to find a room that wouldn't give away the "special character" of the Salem Institute.

While she thought all this, she lead the FBI people further down the corridor. Turning a corner, the group bumped into two other people. One of the people was Minerva McGonagall who, on seeing the Muggles, shot Indira a look that was a mix between "What The HELL!" and "I told you so." The other person was somebody much more helpful; a small, young witch, with light brown hair and clear blue eyes. Lucy Whithers, the Salem Institute Muggle Studies teacher.

"Lucy." Indira said, a little too enthusiastically. "These people are from the FBI. I was hoping we could use your classroom to talk."

Lucy got the gist straight away.

"Oh, of course." she nodded. "Yep, sure thing."

"This is Ms Lucy Whithers," Indira said, addressing Aaron Hotchner, "our...cultural studies teacher. And this is Minerva McGonagall. She joins us from the UK."

"And she teaches?" Hotch asked.

Indira hesitated, "Physics?"

"Physics." Hotch repeated.

Minerva, who had been staring daggers at Indira, gave a forced smile and nodded.

"Physics!" she said.

"All this chat is very nice," Indira said quickly, "but I don't suppose this is what you have come for. Lucy, if you could show them to your room."

Lucy nodded and beckoned for them to follow her. Indira's grey eyes and Minerva's dark blue ones watched as they left. When they were out of sight, Minerva spun around.

"Physics?" she exclaimed. "I don't even know what they are? What are "physics"?"

"Um...something to do with airplanes." Indira replied. "Don't worry. I highly doubt they're going to ask you to write a pop quiz."

"And who are they?" Minerva asked, lowering her voice as if one of them might spring up from behind a wall.

"I told you." Indira said. "FBI."

"Muggles?" said Minerva.

"Of course Muggles!" Indira snapped. "I don't go around lying about your subject because it amuses me!"

"Alright, alright." Minerva snapped back. "The real question is what are we going to do?"

"For now," Indira said, "we try and conceal our true nature. However, I'm beginning to wonder if we should tell them about magic. In all honesty, both you and I know that this was a wizard murder or at least a magical murder. If we want it solved, we need help."

"And we can get help!" Minerva said. "But are you sure these Muggles are a good idea? We'd be breaking about a million secrecy laws."

"I don't know." Indira said. "I don't know what to do. I shall gather everyone together and we'll take a vote."

"How very diplomatic." Minerva said, rolling her eyes.

The two witches made their way to the Muggle Studies room. Tactfully, Lucy had hidden all magic objects, so the room appeared like a normal computer lab.

"So, Agent Hotchner," Indira said, "what is your business here?"

"We are here, as I'm sure you are aware, to investigate the murder of Amber Kersley." Hotch said quietly.

"Of course." Indira sighed. "A terrible business. And we will do what we can to help you."

"You're difficult people to find." Rossi said.

"Our methods are unusual, I will admit that..."

"Rossi. David Rossi."

"And the rest of my team," Hotch said, "Agents Prentiss, Jareau, Morgan and Dr Reid."

"Pleasure, I'm sure." Indira said, nodding at each one in turn.

"Amber was a student here?" Hotch asked.

"Correct. It was her final year with the Institute."

"During the days leading up to her death, did you notice anything unusual?"

"No. But I see so many students during a day that things blur a little."

"A bag, that we assume was hers, was found at the crime scene. There was no cellphone. Did Amber have one?"

"Cellphone?" Indira, turned to look at Lucy.

"Um, no she didn't." Lucy said. "But that isn't unusual among our students."

"I see." Hotch said. "We will have to speak to your students, especially those close to Amber."

"I'm afraid you can't do that." Indira said hastily. "Not at the present anyway. We will need to get parental permission before you ask them any questions. School policy."

Hotch looked annoyed.

"Miss Inkpen, this is a murder investigation."

"I am fully aware of that fact."

Hotch sighed, "can we interview your staff or do they need parental permission as well?"

"I will make the arrangements." Indira said coldly.

She signaled the other witches to come with her. They walked out of the room and into the corridor.

"What's the plan, Commander?" Lucy asked.

"Brief everyone." Indira said, talking as she walked. "They are not to mention anything magical until Minerva or I give the word."

"Me?" Minerva asked, a little surprised.

"Yes. You're the Hogwarts head. As Hogwarts is a part of this, you have just as much authority as I do." Indira said. "However, I'd like you to conference with me before you make any official decisions."

"Of course." Minerva said, her voice sincere. "This is your school. I won't undermine that."

"Lucy," Indira said, "tell Agent Hotchner that we will send the staff members in one at a time. Then go and gather everyone. I will expect you in my office in fifteen minutes."

Lucy left and Indira turned to Minerva.

"Come. We must ready ourselves for withholding information and lying to federal agents."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

David Rossi watched as the three women left. Then he looked around the room, the "cultural studies" room. There were computers and some books, classic literature that Rossi recognized. What was a cultural studies room supposed to look like? There was nothing that pointed to the subject that was taught in here.

"Does anybody get the feeling that the Institute is hiding something?" he asked.

"Indira Inkpen certainly knows more than she is saying." Hotch nodded. "Did you ask her if the school has a website?"

"I got an address from Ms Whithers." Prentiss said. "I've sent it to Garcia now."

"Good." Hotch said. "Morgan, you call her and see what she can tell us."

Morgan took out his phone and walked about, holding it up at different angles.

"I'm not getting any reception." he said.

He walked over to a patch of carpet, a blue circle that was a completely different colour from the rest of the floor.

"That's weird." he said. "Now it's working."

"Magic blue circle of reception?" JJ said, raising an eyebrow and looking at the floor.

"Okay, I've got her." Morgan said. "Baby Girl, do your stuff. You're on speaker."

"First off," Garcia said, her voice springing from the phone, "I would just like to say that I can not believe I missed this."

"It's okay, Garcia." Hotch said. "Everyone misses something occasionally."

"I am not everyone!" Garcia said. "I searched every possible tag. This should have come up. Hello."

"What?" Prentiss asked.

"The links on the site don't go anywhere." Garcia replied. "You can't even click on them."

"Maybe it's a new website?" JJ suggested. "They're probably still having problems with it."

"Oh, it's new alright." Garcia said, sounding gleeful. "I just checked when it was created."

"When?" Hotch said.

"Try five minutes ago."

"Five minutes!" Rossi said in disbelief. "Tell me that's significant!"

"I would definitely say you've found a clue, Scooby Doo." Garcia said.

"Thanks for that Garcia." Hotch said. "I want anything you can find on Indira Inkpen."

"Will do, Sir. Penelope out."

And with that the phone went dead.

The BAU stood in silence, assessing their situation. Something was definitely up. Finally, Hotch gave the orders.

"I'm going to talk to Miss Inkpen about the website situation. Divide yourself among the staff when they come. Try and find out more about the school, as well as what happened on the night Amber died."

And on that instruction, Rossi found himself sitting in a side room, opposite a woman who had folded her arms in a way that clearly suggested she wasn't going to co-operate. She had long, black hair, pale skin and deep, dark brown eyes.

"My name is David Rossi. Special Agent Rossi." Rossi said. "And you are?"

"Septima Vector." the woman said in an English accent.

Rossi raised an eyebrow.

"My parents had a sense of humor." Septima said dryly.

"And what is your position here at the institute?" Rossi asked.

"I teach math." she replied.

Rossi raised his eyebrow again.

"I also have a sense of humor." she said, giving a small smile.

Rossi asked the routine questions: how well had she known Amber Kersley; who were her friends; did she notice anyone behaving out of the ordinary? All of Ms Vector's answers were vague: she hadn't known the girl well, as she had just come from England on an exchange program, from a school she couldn't name; Amber had a group she hung out with, but Ms Vector couldn't point them out. The last question Ms Vector answered with a laugh and the statement, "does anyone really ever behave in a normal way?" Rossi moved in his seat. He didn't get flustered, but this woman was pushing him.

"This is a murder inquiry, Ms Vector." he said, looking at her, a frown on his face. "Are you aware of that fact?"

"I'll do what ever I can to help you." the woman assured him.

"Can you start by telling me the name of the school you came from?"

"No. Can't tell you that."

Rossi tensed, something that didn't go unnoticed by Ms Vector.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." she smiled. "Let's just leave it at that."

"Alright then." Rossi replied, clearly not alright with this summary. "As you can't seem to remember your past scholastic endeavours, I'll ask you about the present. The Institute. Ms Indira Inkpen. What do you think of her?"

"Professionally," Ms Vector said, her voice cool, "I'd say she's very capable. Extremely capable. A dedicated teacher with a good brain. Personally, though I've only known her a little while, I think she's very amiable."

"Okay." Rossi said. "You haven't noticed anything odd about her?"

"Odd?"

Now it was Septima's turn to be uncomfortable, something Rossi seized upon.

"Yes," he said, "odd. The Institute as well. You haven't found their methods strange?"

"Strange? No, no. Nothing strange about the institute. Nothing strange or odd. And nothing odd about Indira. She's great. A great teacher. Just a normal teacher. In a normal school. She's perfect. The Institute is perfect. It's all just-"

She paused for breath.

"Perfect?" Rossi suggested.

"Yes." she said coldly, regaining her composure.

"Interesting." Rossi said with a smirk.

A sound penetrated the silence that had began to grow in the split second they had stopped talking. The sound of voices raised. Though muffled, the thin walls couldn't contain what was being said:

"We haven't had a proper briefing! What if someone lets something slip?"

"Have a little more faith in your staff, Minerva."

"Have you met my staff, Indira?"

"She means me. She's talking about me, aren't you Minerva?"

"Rolanda, we all know you're notoriously bad at keeping secrets."

"I'll just act. I'm a superbly good actor."

"Which is why they cancelled the drama club in your second year of teaching?"

"How is it he knows that? I can't believe you told him that!"

"As it happens, I heard the rumours from your students, not my dear sister."

"Minerva! Your brother's being mean."

"Honestly children, play nicely."

"Robert! Your sister's mocking me."

"Maybe we should just tell them."

"With all due respect, Indira, are you insane?"

"Minerva, do you think they'd let me see the body?"

"I shouldn't think so. You're the school nurse, Poppy."

"NURSE! I bloody well-"

"- Poppy, it's all part of the cover. We can't let them know."

"Oh, so I shouldn't do this during the interview?"

"_NO_, Rolanda, you should definitely not do that during the interview."

"How about this?"

"Did I really hire you?"

The voices got louder and more muffled, but Rossi had heard enough. Before Ms Vector could even react, he had jumped to his feet and ran out into the corridor. He reached the door to the room and listened, just to check he had the right place.

"Robert, I'm not a mind reader, how should I know what they'll ask? Poppy, _I can not sneak you in to see the body_. Indira, what have we told the students? ROLANDA, WILL YOU PUT THAT VASE DOWN!"

Rossi pushed the door open and stopped in the door way, looking at the scene before him, his mouth open. Indira Inkpen sat on the edge of a table, her palm on her forehead. Minerva McGonagall sank into a chair, shaking her head. A tall man with greying-brown hair leant against wall. He must have been Robert, Minerva's brother; they had the same intense stare. A woman stood by the window, soft, white hair piled in a knot on her head. Her grey eyes watched Rossi, frozen like a deer in the headlights. Her matrons outfit suggested she was Poppy. But Rossi was looking at the woman who stood in the middle of the room. Rolanda had spiky grey hair and yellow eyes. A long, wooden stick was in her hand. Suspended above her head was a vase with red tulips. It hovered, spinning slowly, nothing but the air around it.

Rolanda let the stick fall to her side and, as it lowered, the vase came crashing to the ground, water and porcelain decorating the floor.

"Well...uh...haha, that, uh, vase on the ceiling was pretty weird, huh?" Rolanda said.

There was a collective groan and Indira Inkpen stepped forward.

"Mr Rossi, would you get your supervisor?"

She sighed.

"I think there's something we have to tell you about."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Sorry it has taken me so long to post another chapter for this! It was life, school, the Harry Potter FanFiction Challenge Forum, all the usual stuff. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy :)

**Chapter 9 **

Penelope Garcia was not a field agent. She stayed in her little den of technological wonder and she liked it that way. So it came as quite a shock when Agent Hotchner had requested her immediate presence in Salem. She had barely had time to pack her brightly coloured wardrobe into a brightly coloured suitcase, before a black car drove up and took her to the airport. She spent the entire flight attempting to call her team members to ascertain what was going on, but Hotch wouldn't pick up and Morgan only said, "for the 7th time, Penelope, I have no idea what's happening!" so she gave up in the end. The plane touched down on the tarmac and she was shepherded off to a warehouse, the warehouse where Amber had been killed. "So this," Garcia thought, "is the Salem Institute." Reid was waiting outside to meet her.

"What in the world is going on?" Garcia said by way of greeting.

"I haven't got a clue." Reid replied. "Hotch just said it was urgent. He was waiting until you got here to actually give out details."

"Well I'm here now, so let's get this show on the road!" smiled Garcia. "How do we get in?"

Reid showed her how the access card opened up the wall.

"Have you seen anything like it before?" he asked. "We wondered what kind of technology it used."

"No, I've never seen anything like it." Garcia said in wonder. "It's like the wall just disappeared!"

The two walked down the stairs and through the corridors until they came to the cultural studies room. All the other members were assembled there, apart from Hotch and Rossi. No one was talking. Garcia glanced around her. It seemed like a normal school. On the surface at least.

Before long, Hotch walked into the room. He was followed by a rather shaken looking Rossi and a woman who Garcia didn't know but everyone else recognized as Indira Inkpen. Hotch, for once in his life didn't seem to know what to say.

"We're gathered here because we have, um, had an interesting piece of information come to light."

He looked at Indira, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"It appears that The Salem Institute is actually a school for witches and wizards. They're magic."

JJ and Prentiss gave each other a look and Morgan just laughed.

"Come on, man!" he said. "Quit joking. What's this really about?"

"I only wish he was joking." Rossi said with a frown.

Indira, sensing it was time to take over, stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak.

"It may surprise you to know that within your own world exists another. A world where magic is very real, indeed it is the most important factor. Witches and wizards have been around for centuries and centuries, living in secrecy. The Institute has been one of America's most prodigious magical schools for a lot of that time. Muggles (the name given to those not part of the magical community) are not supposed to know about us. We're taking a great risk telling you. However, we have reason to believe that the magical community may be somehow involved in Miss Kersley's death. This seems to be the best option for the time being."

Minerva, Rolanda and Poppy entered the room. Minerva didn't seem to be happy about the arrangements, but she was coping. All three witches had come to back up the American headmistress, as they would be amazed if the BAU didn't question what they had just been told. This was verified when Morgan had finished shaking his head.

"What? You actually believe that what this woman is saying is true? It's insane! They're insane."

"Of course, we didn't expect you to just swallow it." Indira said gently. "Minerva, would you mind?"

"Can't I do it?" Rolanda asked.

"You've done enough." Minerva said with a sigh.

Taking her wand from her robes, she raised it and jabbed at one of the desks. Orange flames burst forth, incasing the table. Minerva sliced through the air and the flames disappeared, leaving the desk perfectly intact. Morgan, who had been desperately searching for a fire extinguisher, sat down quickly, visibly stunned.

"So that's all cleared up." Indira said with a slight smirk. "If some of you would like to come with me, I'll take you to the library. There we can get you some magical history books which will hopefully help you understand."

Reid literally jumped up. He was already a fan of libraries and was not going to miss out on seeing a magical one. Prentiss and JJ followed suit, looking slightly less enthusiastic; the whole magic thing was still a bit of a shock. As they left, Hotch turned to Garcia.

"You're here because we still may need to check up on, um, _Muggle_, activities." he explained. "Due to the highly secret nature of this case, we judged it would be best for you to join us."

"Good thought." Garcia nodded. "I can't imagine what we'd have to say to Strauss!"

"Yes, well, unfortunately I still have to write up a case report." Hotch said. "It's going to be interesting to see how I can get around it."

"Fun times being unit chief!" Garcia smiled. "Where can I set up?"

"You have to do it in here." Poppy explained. "As a rule, Muggle technology doesn't work in magical schools. The Muggle Studies room is the only classroom equipped to handle it. And according to Lucy Whithers, the Muggle Studies teacher, if you want to, um, get on the line then you have to be in the blue circle."

She turned to Hotch.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could examine the body. I have had magical medical training and I could be able to clarify somethings for you."

"Of course." Hotch replied. "That would be very helpful, Miss-"

"Pomfrey. Poppy Pomfrey."

"Miss Pomfrey. Agent Morgan will accompany you."

Poppy looked at the agent, gave him a smile and said with a purr, "excellent."

Morgan sighed and shook his head, but was smiling.

"Come on then. Let's go."

As they left, Garcia was beginning to unpack her things, not made easy by the assistance of Rolanda Hooch who had decided to help out.

"What's this?" Rolanda asked, picking something up.

"It's a headset." Garcia said. "I use it to talk to my team, but it also means I can have both my hands free."

"Why does it not have a tail, when all these other things do?" Rolanda said.

"It's called a chord." Garcia explained. "And my headset is wireless, so it doesn't need one."

"What's this?"

"It's a portable hard drive. It stores all the files and programs I might need."

Rolanda looked at the hard drive in awe.

"All those things? _In this tiny box?_" she squeaked. "And what's this?"

"That's a keyboard."

"Oh of course." Rolanda said, knowledgeably. "We have those in the Muggles Studies room back home."

She reached out a finger and pressed one of the keys, before backing off as if it might explode.

"Look at that!" she exclaimed, pointing to the screen. "Look at that, Minerva. I just press one of those buttons things and the letter just appears! _Just like that!_"

"She's adorable." Garcia said. "Can I keep her?"

"If you promise to feed her and let her out." Minerva smiled. "And she needs a lot of exercise, trust me."

"Look, Minerva! It can write my name!"

"That's nice, dear." Minerva said. "Agent Hotchner, if you'd like we could go and find my brother. He is the deputy head here and could help you with interviewing the necessary students."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Man, it's been a long time since I updated! Sorry about that. My exams will be over next week, so hopefully I can do some more work on this. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and thanks for your time :)

**Chapter 10**

Poppy Pomfrey had never been in a Muggle car before. She had finished changing into 'normal' clothes and almost skipped outside to where the black vehicle was parked. Most of the drive to the morgue was spent with Poppy bombarding Morgan with questions about driving. Afterwards, she felt confident that she could have done it herself. The brief moments when she didn't speak, she answered the questions that Morgan had about magic; he had lots. Mostly he seemed to be attempting to find some flaw, as if he could disprove the whole theory and deny its existence. Poppy understood though. She had seen many parents of Muggle-born students have exactly the same reaction.

They arrived at the morgue and Morgan led the way inside. Poppy couldn't help but gaze at everything. They went from the main entrance to the medical examiner's room, where they were met by Dr Crawley.

"I did call." Morgan said, as a reply to the doctor's less than pleased expression.

"I know." Dr Crawley replied. "I'm just not sure what good it will do checking the body again. I've told you all I know."

"We've brought in someone." Morgan said. "She's a special consultant."

"Special consultant?" Dr Crawley said, obviously a bit offended.

Poppy stepped forward and looked at the M.E with her big, grey, doe eyes.

"I don't want to step on any toes." she said with a slightly husky voice, her lips slightly pursed, her eyes swimming with concern.

Dr Crawley coughed and looked down his shoes, before saying gruffly "no, no, of course not. You do what you have to do."

Poppy smiled sweetly and Morgan tried not to laugh. Dr Crawley led them further into the room, then ordered one of his assistants to bring out Amber's body. If Poppy felt anything from seeing the mangled girl, she hid it well. The assistant left and Morgan stood looking at the doctor.

"You want me to leave as well?" Crawley said incredulously.

"We'd like her to start from scratch," Morgan explained, "without any outside influences."

"If that's alright by you, Doctor." Poppy added, flashing him a small smile.

"Yes, of course." he said, nodding his head and returning the smile. "I completely understand."

"Thank you." Poppy called out in a musical voice as the doctor left.

Morgan watched him leave and then burst out laughing. Poppy, who had brought a bag of everything she might need and was now unpacking, grinned broadly.

"You're pretty scary." Morgan said.

"Feminine charm." Poppy replied. "It's an extremely complicated magical concept you wouldn't understand."

"I don't think Dr Crawley understood it." Morgan retorted. "Poor guy didn't stand a chance."

Poppy had set up a selection of potions, each one a different colour. Her wand lay beside them, lined up with surgical precision. She pulled on some gloves and looked at Morgan.

"May I begin?"

"When ever you're ready, Witch-Doctor." Morgan said. "Let's see what you can do. What are you looking for anyway?"

"Lycanthropy." Reid said out loud.

He was sitting in the Muggle studies room, a pile of books stacked next to him. Like a child devouring their Halloween candy, the youngest BAU member had sped through all of them, relishing the new information. The Salem Librarian had commented that he'd probably checked out more books than the entire student population put together.

"What?" JJ and Prentiss said together.

"Lycanthropy." Reid said again, as if it was a common sentence starter.

"You mean, you can actually understand half of this stuff?" JJ sighed. "I've had to skip back so many times. I'm only on page three!"

"Try paragraph three." Prentiss stated. "What the heck is a Pygmy Puff?"

"A Pygmy Puff is a miniature Puffskien and Lycanthropy is a disease that turns sufferers into Werewolves, a concept I think even Muggles have heard of." Indira said, a little unkindly.

It had been a long day for her and, though she sympathized, she was getting a little frustrated with explaining everything. It was so strange to be explaining things that she just took for granted; it was rather like trying to describe colour to a blind person.

"Of course a Lycanthropy patient has crossed our minds." the Headmistress said to Reid. "But there is no real evidence to support that."

"Aside from the giant, wolf-like bites, you mean?" Garcia called from over at her computer.

Indira scowled slightly and Prentiss asked, "are there many werewolves in the Salem area?"

"It has one of the largest colonies of tame werewolves in the world, in the woods, just outside the town." Reid said, like he'd been saying it all his life.

"Emphasis on the word tame." Indira added. "The Salem werewolves are peaceful. They take all the precautions to ensure they don't harm anyone."

"Then there should be no problem going and asking them some questions." said Prentiss acidly.

"I would advise against it." Indira whispered, her eyes, the colour of steel, moving to meet the younger woman's.

"It's the only lead we have right now." JJ said. "Maybe it's not one of them, but it could be a wolf from out of town. Perhaps they could have seen someone hanging around."

"If you don't want to go," Prentiss said, "I can question them myself. Just tell me the way."

"They won't speak to you." Indira said coldly. "They barely speak to anyone. They live in their own private community; alone, together."

"Why?" JJ asked.

"Perhaps they feel it's better that way. This world hasn't exactly been kind to them, nor have the people in it."

"Would they speak to you?" Prentiss said astutely.

Indira smiled and said softly, "some might."

"Then come with me. We can take one of the cars."

Indira seemed to consider this before saying, "we could Apparate."

"What is that?" Prentiss asked, a note of apprehension in her usually confident voice.

"It is when you disappear from one place and appear in another." Indira explained. "It's very simple. The first time can be a little disconcerting, but it's perfectly safe-"

"-unless you get splinched," Rolanda, who had so far been distracted by a USB stick, interrupted, "which is when some of your body parts don't quite make the journey. It's horribly painful. When I first learnt-"

"_Rolanda_!" Indira sighed, shaking her head.

Prentiss nodded and said, with an uneasy smile, "I think we'll just take the car."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The black vehicle drove slowly along the road. It passed through the main centre of town and continued onwards. Neither of the two women spoke during the journey, Indira only occasionally raising her voice to bark directions, Prentiss following them without question. They came to a dirt road, the entrance obscured by masses of over hanging branches. If one didn't know it was there, then it would be the easiest thing in the world to overlook.

"Stop the car here." Indira said quietly. "We go up on foot."

Prentiss obeyed, turning the car around and gliding to a stop at the side of the road. Indira held back a tree branch and Prentiss stepped forward.

They walked into a forest, big, willowy trees standing sadly on all sides, their branches loping over to brush the ground. The dirt road stretched in a straight line up into the distance, narrowing into nothing more than a path. The afternoon sunlight left dusty impressions on patches of grass, the blades of which were browning and tough. Indria started forward, her heels leaving tiny circles in the dust. Prentiss followed after.

"What is this place?" Prentiss asked.

Indira looked at her and smiled.

"A Sanctuary."

They walked in silence for a while. It was a sad place, Prentiss thought. Pretty enough to look at, but there was something floating in the air, something that spoke of loss and grief. Prentiss shivered and decided to speak.

"So what are the consequences of this going to be? Telling 'Muggles' about your world, I mean."

"I'm not sure." Indira answered slowly. "But it will be bad. Extremely bad. Usually, if you wish to make a disclosure of this kind, you have to fill out about a million governmental forms. These have to approved and all this other carry on. We didn't really have time to fill out the forms and, in any case, I don't know if they would've been granted."

"The American Magical Government and The Salem Institute of Magic aren't on the best terms." she continued in response to Prentiss's questioning look. "At the start of this year, we allowed a Muggle parent onto our board of governors. We felt it would better represent Muggle-born families. But the education minister isn't happy about it. He thinks it would complicate things, which it might. But the government has no real power here. That's the main thing they hate. Sometimes they can work with it, but recently they've been looking to put us under observation. However, they need an excuse for that."

"And a dead student on your doorstep is the perfect ammunition." Prentiss nodded sympathetically.

"Yes." Indira sighed. "And breaking secrecy laws is just the knife twist in the wound. God, that was a tactless thing to say."

She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. A patch of light fell across the path and the dusky spotlight hung around them like a halo. Indira closed her eyes and let the warmth splash across her face. The witch's face illuminated, Prentiss saw many lines that hadn't been immediately obvious when they'd first met; this woman was older and tireder than she appeared.

The pair spent at least ten minutes walking up the path, the road where they had left the car getting further and further away. The sun was low, the darkness soon would take its place. Prentiss hoped they would return before that point. They came to a clearing and the presence of life became visible. There were many old, wooden cabins lined up in a row, slanting roofs hanging over small porches and chipped, green window sills. A fire smoked away in the centre, a large pot cooking something. People, of all different ages, walked about; a woman tended to the pot, a younger boy cutting up vegetables; two men carried stacks of firewood, placing them beside one of the cabin walls; children played with what looked like marbles and an old lady sat on a porch, rocking back and forth in a wicker chair, smoking a long pipe. It looked like a holiday site, with no magical connections what so ever and then Prentiss saw something. The land began to rise up a little way after the last cabin. Perched on the hill were rows of boxes. Made of a dark coloured metal, they were held up with heavy looking bolts. Gigantic, thick chains laced around them, sealed with an imposing padlock. They stood, like grey soldiers, looking down on the encampment below.

"What are those?" Prentiss asked, staring up at them.

"Prisons." Indira replied. "No longer in use, thanks to the Wolfsbane potion, but they serve as a reminder."

The mood seemed to switch when the women walked into sight. Everyone seemed to tense and look up, as if ready to run. Prentiss fell into step behind Indira, who seemed to be okay navigating her way around. She gave a polite nod to the woman with the pipe and then turned and walked up to one of the cabins, giving the door a quick rap with her knuckles.

"Enter." a gruff voice called and Indira pushed the door open.

A man sat at a desk, writing on a piece of parchment, a quill in his hand. He had greying black hair that went down to his shoulders and a shadow of a beard on his chin. His clothes were dusty and shabby, many seams making them look as though they had been shredded and then re-sewn. His deep brown eyes slowly looked up as his visitors entered and let the door shut behind them.

"Indira," he said, inclining his head in her direction, "and Companion," nodding at Prentiss.

"Lyall Hemming, this is Agent Prentiss." Indira said.

Prentiss stepped forward and held out her hand, which Lyall took and gave a firm shake.

"You're a Muggle?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, how did you know?" Prentiss said.

Lyall gave a wry smile and said, "few wizards will shake the hands of wolves, my dear."

"Present company excluded." he added, offering them a seat and turning to look at Indira inquiringly.

"We'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind." Indira said, lowering herself onto the chair. "It's about the death up at the school."

"The child?" Lyall asked. "I've heard. A terrible business."

"Can you account for everyone's whereabouts two days ago?" the witch asked.

"I'm their leader, not their keeper." Lyall responded. "But I don't imagine anyone was away from the site."

"It was a full moon that night." Indira said quietly.

"What are you saying?" Lyall said, two different notes in his voice; one teasing, the other defensive and dangerous.

Indira stared at him, her eyes not blinking. "You know what I'm saying."

"Then say it."

Indira sighed. "Were there any incidents-"

"Did any of my lot get lose and savage a kid to death, you mean?" Lyall said angrily. "We all took our _medicine_, Indira, give us some credit!"

"I do." Indira said coldly. "You know I do."

"Sorry." Lyall said, massaging his temples. "I did the checks. Everyone was inside and on Wolfsbane. It couldn't have been anyone from here."

"Well, have there been any strangers hanging around the area?" Prentiss asked.

Lyall shook his head. "We're the only werewolves around here for miles. Trust me."

"There's a high chance that this has nothing to do with werewolves." Indira said kindly. "I shouldn't worry."

Lyall took them to the edge of the site and told them to keep him posted. Indira sensed his need to prove their innocence and hoped that she could cross them off the suspect list. She put her hands in her pockets and began to walk back to the car.

"So what do you think?" she asked Prentiss.

"I hope it wasn't any of them." the agent commented. "But the M.O says otherwise. And he was pretty quick to defend them."

"That's just habit." Indira said softly. "When people always think the worst, you have to be ready to fight for yourself.

"You're very ready to fight for them." Prentiss commented.

"They need people to be on their side." Indira whispered. "I lived next-door to a boy with Lycanthropy when I was a child. People would cross the street when he played in the garden. I don't think he understood why back then. He was just a kid but they abused him for it, like he had a choice, like it wasn't destroying his life and that of his parents. Fear inflamed by ignorance. They treated him like it was their problem and didn't even stop to think how it effected his life."

"What happened to him?" Prentiss asked.

"He killed himself." Indira replied. "On his seventeenth birthday. His parents moved away after that, but I saw the way they cried. They lost their son and all everyone could think about was how they didn't have to worry anymore. How the monster was gone. It was sick. _He was seventeen_."

She wiped a tear off her cheek. His name had been Michael and he had been her friend. He had been clever and funny. He was exceptional at potions and played every musical instrument known to man. And all anyone else could see was the threat he posed every full moon.

"They'll get a fair trial with us." Prentiss said, putting her hand on Indira's shoulder. "Come on."

And they went back to the car, Indira holding the memory of a friend and Prentiss with a dawning sense of responsibility.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Apologies for my slackness! I got a bit side tracked with other projects.

**Chapter 12 **

Everyone gathered together in the Muggle Studies room to have a run through of the days events. Prentiss and Indira had returned from the werewolf settlement. Hotch, Minerva, Robert and Rossi had interviewed some students in the dining hall and made their way back slowly. Garcia, Reid, JJ and Rolanda hadn't left. Septima joined them from teaching classes and Lucy gave her apologies, but she had an appointment that couldn't be avoided and so wouldn't attend. The only people still to come were Poppy and Morgan, who were at the morgue. Hotch decided they could start without them. A few tables had been pushed together to form one long surface and he sat down at the head.

"What has everyone got to report?" he asked.

"I think I understand the rules of Quidditch now," JJ said, "but I'm not sure how much that helps."

"And I now know how to use an email." Rolanda said proudly. "But I don't think that's terribly important either."

"All those living up in the forest settlement were accounted for on the night of the killing." Indira said.

"And they didn't see any strangers hanging around." Prentiss added. "But that doesn't rule them out."

"It wasn't a werewolf." a voice said from the doorway.

All heads in the room turned to see Poppy walking in, back in her matron's robes, followed by Morgan. They joined the group at the table and Hotch signaled for the witch to continue.

"I did every possible test." Poppy said. "There are no traces of Lycanthropy in any of the wounds. If it had been present, it wouldn't have died out this quickly. And any werewolf bite leaves small amounts, even if it isn't enough to turn you."

"Anything else you can tell us?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing concrete, I'm afraid." Poppy replied. "I would guess that she was restrained magically, probably with Petrificus Totalus or some derivative of that spell."

"Well, where does that leave us?" Indira questioned. "Back at square one?"

Her voice was slightly high, bordering on hysterical. Hotch frowned slightly, her tone reminding him that the Salem contingent weren't actually trained for this kind of thing. It was a hard enough job with the training, let alone being an amateur with a personal connection. Robert gently placed a hand on Indira's arm and she calmed visibly, the tension in her shoulders melting away.

"Sorry." she whispered. "It's been a long day."

"We'll leave the method for now." Hotch said kindly. "We interviewed some of the students who were close to Amber. They say she seemed fine during the days leading up to the killing. They also say that she went out by herself in the morning of the event but this wasn't unusual and she came back before lunch."

"Where did she go?" JJ asked. "Does anybody know that?"

"Most of them go to the magical shopping district." Indira said. "It's hidden. The entrance is through the back of a souvenir store on Essex Street."

"Although there are some Muggle boutiques around town that the girls in Amber's year like." Septima said. "They were telling me a while ago."

"Garcia," Hotch said to the blonde, "find any video surveillance that might show Amber's whereabouts during the morning. I know there won't be any in the magical area, but there might be cameras from surrounding shops."

"I can help, if you like." Septima said. "I know the shops relatively well."

So the witch and the tech-analyst went back over to the computer, leaving the rest of them to get on with the meeting.

"If there's no other news," Robert said, "I'd like to propose we set up a night-watch at the entrance. If there's still somebody out there, then we don't want to take any chances with the students."

"Good idea." Hotch nodded. "We'll go in groups and take it in turns."

Rossi stood outside the entrance, leaning against the warehouse wall. The sun was now completely gone and the darkness, complete with its friend the cold, had swept over the surrounding area. Rossi shivered and pulled his jacket tighter. In the moonlight, the buildings cast long shadows across the ground, light greys merging in to pure blackness. Wind, sharp and icy, cut through the air, the quiet whistle it made sounding like the whisper of some far away song, notes and words lost in one discordant swirl. The distant hum of life going on somewhere in the distance completed the ghostly soundtrack and Rossi couldn't help but feel like it wasn't real. It was so filmic; as if it had been created specifically for the murder of Amber Kersley. What had she been thinking, Rossi wondered, a young girl, standing alone in this place. Had she seen it coming? Did she know her attacker? So many questions that somebody had to know the answer to.

"Here." Robert had come up the stairs and passed a cup of coffee to his companion. Rossi took it gratefully, even if he didn't usually drink instant. The two men stood in silence for a while, letting the eerie scene wash over them and then they began to speak.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Robert asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Rossi shrugged.

"I see murder every day. But this whole magic thing is different story."

Robert laughed and nodded; the entire BAU, he thought, was taking it rather well.

"And the people," he asked the agent, "the families. Do they ever recover?"

"They learn to get by." Rossi nodded. "But they'll never forget it."

"Indira said Amber's mother didn't stop crying the entire time she was talking to her." Robert said, his voice a little hoarse. "I can't imagine what they're going through."

"You've never had anything like happen?" Rossi questioned. "If it's not too personal."

"There was the war. The first one." Robert said quietly. "There were things, God, things I wish I could un-see. So many people I knew died; friends, that I hadn't spoken to for months because I didn't know if I could trust them. I'm lucky though. My sister and some of the other teachers have been through three. I got out of England before those ones."

"I bet that's been hard on her." Rossi replied.

"She tries to hide it, but you notice the change."

Indira and Lucy were next on the watch shift. It had become very, very cold and both women were shivering. Indira, her arms folded across her chest, twisted her wrist to look at her watch.

"Our turn is over." she said with a yawn. "Minerva and Agent Jareau should be here any minute."

"Why don't you go see where they're at?" Lucy asked. "It'll only take a minute. I'll be fine on my own."

Indira looked dubious, but Lucy said "do you want to spend anymore time in this wind than you have to? Go!"

So Indira walked down the stairs, the sound of her heels fading away. Lucy jumped up and down on the balls of her feet, attempting to keep warm. Her eyes scanned the scene and she had to double take; a figure was walking towards her.

"Hello!" she said in surprise, recognizing the face. "What are you doing here?"

Then she felt something hit from the side and her entire body froze.

Indira, Minerva and JJ came up the stairs.

"Sorry to be waking you up." Indira was saying.

"It's fine." JJ grinned. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep anyway."

Minerva's deep blue eyes had narrowed.

"Indira," she asked, "where's Lucy?"

The Salem headmistress looked around, a worried look creeping over her face.

"She was here." she said a little desperately. "She was right here."

The three women split up, all scouring the area, calling Lucy's name. Minerva walked towards a dark corner, her fingers crossed, even though she didn't believe in such nonsense. Lucy had probably just gone back inside, that was it. That had to be it. Minerva continued a little way, then stopped, her eyes wide, staring at the ground.

"Indira." she called, her voice weak.

Indira came and, upon seeing what her companion saw, gave a piercing scream. JJ ran over and then said quickly:

"Don't touch anything. I'll get the rest of the team."

She sprinted back towards the Institute, leaving Minerva and Indira standing beside the mangled body of Lucy Whithers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's taken so long to update! I've been caught up with lots of other things. Hopefully you all enjoy this installment :)

**Chapter 13**

Indira sat on the top step, leaning against the wall. People walked in and out of the Institute, passing her and not speaking. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall, pointing in that direction but not actually looking; she was somewhere else, somewhere far away. In a world where nobody had to die, where nothing had to hurt, where nothing went wrong. It was a nice world, a quiet, comfortable, safe one. Indira wanted to wrap herself in it and never return. But her thoughts were shattered by someone sitting down on the step below her.

"Are you okay?" Robert asked, his head tilted up to look at her.

Indira turned slowly and whispered, "do I seem okay?"

"Can I get you anything?" Robert said, moving closer protectively. "Is there anyone you want to talk to?"

"No." Indira replied quietly. "I don't want to speak to anyone."

She stressed the last word, something that Robert didn't miss.

"I'm not leaving you." he stated resolutely.

"Please do." Indira said, a pathetic desperation in her voice.

"You've been left alone too long already." Robert shook his head. "It's not good for you."

"Please, don't try to be my doctor." Indira said. "My friend has just been killed. I'll decide what is and isn't good."

"She was my friend too." Robert reminded her. "And I'm just as sad. But sitting on the stairs feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help her."

"You don't understand." Indira snapped.

"I'm not sure I do." Robert said coldly. "Because the woman I know would want to do something to help her friend and make sure no one else has to be hurt. The woman I know would realize that this is so much bigger than just her."

He realized how harsh he sounded as soon as the words came out. He regretted them almost instantly, as Indira stood up and walked quickly inside, tears starting to run down her face. With a monumental sigh, Robert put his head in his hands; making things worse had not been his intention.

"What was that about?" Minerva asked.

She had been standing with Agent Hotchner, discussing the time window that the murderer had, but had made her way over to her brother. Robert ran his hands through his hair.

"Just me, making an already volatile situation even more so. I said some things that didn't go down too well."

"Actually, I heard." Minerva said, sitting down next to him.

"Then what do you want, Minerva?" he sighed.

"You obviously care for Indira very much." she said. "And it is obvious, so don't deny it."

"I wasn't going to." Robert muttered.

"I bring up your, eh, feelings, because, less obviously, I think she also cares for you a great deal."

"Your point, sister dearest?" Robert said.

"My point, Robert," Minerva said, a little annoyed, "is that she has to talk to someone. And she'll talk to you if you try."

"I tried!" Robert exclaimed.

"Then try again!" Minerva said sternly. "You're the person she trusts the most, despite what you think. You love her, Robert. Maybe it's time to let her see that."

The two McGonagall siblings sat in silence for a while, perhaps letting the words sink in.

"Why are you doing this?" Robert asked, not accusingly, just a bit curious. "You hate feelings."

"_Hate feelings!_" Minerva scoffed. "You make me sound so callous."

"Do you like feelings?" her brother said in surprise.

"Well, no, not really." Minerva admitted. "But you're my brother. Shouldn't I want you to be happy?"

"That's awfully nice of you."

"Also I realise that Indira, and yourself for that matter, are more useful to the cause if you aren't wallowing in self pity."

"Okay, that's less nice." Robert laughed.

He watched his sister as she sat, looking at her properly for the first time since she had arrived; the severe bun, the sharp line of her chin, the dark blue gaze that they shared. Time had changed her, changed them both. If he thought back far enough, he could recall a girl, never really little, but one that laughed and sang and ran and danced. Did she dance now? He doubted it. Minnie was a dancer, Minerva was not.

"I'm glad you're here." Robert said.

Minerva smiled, a little bitterly.

"I'm not. Not with everything that's happened."

She laid a hand on her brother's.

"But I'm glad I can be here for you. Now, go and see Indira."

Robert pushed the door to Indira's office open a little tentatively. The witch was sitting in the large swivel chair behind her desk, staring at the ceiling. As the door was opened, she snapped her head forward, her eyes glistening as she held back tears. Robert shuffled in. He stood before the desk, as if he were a misbehaving student, looking at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Robert said quickly, breaking the silence that threatened to swallow them both.

Indira looked at him, her tilted in confusion, her lips pursed. Then she looked back at the desk and began to cry. A small part of Robert wanted to turn and run while he could, to get away from the bomb that was ticking faster and faster. A large majority of him wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to never let her go and reassure it would be okay. But, if he was nothing else, Robert McGonagall was a gentleman. He simply went over to her and knelt down.

"Indira," he said softly, "it's going to get better. I promise."

Indira ran her sleeve across her eyes and then stood up, pacing the room.

"No, no it's not." she cried, her voice hoarse. "A woman is dead. A young, intelligent, talented woman who had such a bright future ahead of her. She just got back from her honeymoon, a few weeks ago. She was telling me that she and her husband had just bought an apartment in town. She was moving in next weekend. And now she won't, because she's dead and it's all my fault!"

Robert sighed and walked to her. He caught hold of her elbows and, though she resisted, he forced her to stop pacing before wrapping his arms around her body. There she stood, shivering and crying, as he stroked her greying-blonde hair.

"Indira, this is nobody's fault." he said calmly.

"I left her there." Indira whispered. "I shouldn't have left her there."

"You couldn't have known." Robert said firmly. "You can't blame yourself for this. It's horrible and sad and we all wish it hadn't happened. But beating yourself up isn't going to undo it. All it will do is drag everyone further apart, when we need to be coming together. You're not to blame, Indira. No one is."

They stood together for what seemed like an eternity. Robert continued to smooth out Indira's hair, until her breath had evened out. Her head rested against his chest and he knew she must be able to hear his heart, pounding quickly, because he could certainly feel it.

"Someone needs to call her husband." Indira said, slowly raising her head up.

"Maybe it would be best to wait till morning." Robert replied. "When we've all had time to think."

Indira nodded.

"Thank you." she said, reaching up and gently kissing him on the cheek.

"It's fine." he said, catching her hand and giving it a squeeze.

At that moment, the door to the office was flung open. It was Septima, looking pale and out of breath.

"You have to come quickly!" she gasped. "They've found another body."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 **

Minerva and Hotch stood over the body, watching as Poppy made some preliminary examinations. The dead person was a woman, tall, with long, dirty blonde hair. She lay, sprawled out, her cheek against the concrete, her arms at odd angles. She was mostly intact, except for some large cuts in her back. Unlike the other victims, her blood had pooled around her, staining the ground.

"I'm not really an expert with Muggle weaponry," Poppy said, getting to her feet, "but as far as I can tell there was only one weapon. The cuts on her back are all different depths, but the shapes are pretty consistent. A knife was probably used. She was stabbed repeatedly and erratically, which, I'm assuming, was the cause of death."

"No bite marks or scratches?" Hotch asked.

"Not that I can see." Poppy replied.

"And Lucy?"

"Lucy," Poppy said with a sigh, "has evidence of the same bite marks seen on Amber Kersley. Look, I'm no medical examiner and I really haven't had time to go over them properly. If you got them to the morgue, I could do a better job and maybe your Muggle man could confirm my theories."

Poppy went off and Hotch found himself silently commending her cool head. He knew of few people who could examine the body of a friend and keep from crying. Minerva McGonagall was one of those people, he thought. The witch hadn't spoken since the second body had been discovered, but so far there had been no tears.

"You're all taking this very well." Hotch commented to her.

"It is not the first time we have seen death, Agent Hotchner." Minerva whispered, a bitter note in her voice.

"All the same," the FBI agent said, "you don't have to be here."

"I do." Minerva said. "We can not walk away from the fact that these _horrible_ events are in someway magical. As a witch, and indeed as Lucy's friend, I now have a personal investment in the outcome of this case. And when I am invested in something, I see it through. Besides, who else is going to explain our world in a way that you understand? Aside from your Dr Reid, who seems to know more than I do!"

"Reid is an anomaly." Hotch admitted.

"He's certainly very bright." Minerva said with a smile.

At that moment, the pair were joined by Indira, Robert and Septima. Indira seemed to have recovered and addressed Hotch in a business like manner.

"Who is she?" was the first question to be asked.

"We were hoping you might be able to help us with that." Hotch answered. "You don't recognize her?"

Indira stared for a while.

"I don't think I do." she said finally. "The face feels a little familiar, but I can't say for sure."

"I've got Garcia checking missing persons, in case anyone has reported her missing." Hotch said. "In all honesty, I don't have high hopes. She doesn't have any identification on her and -"

"-she's probably a witch anyway." Indira finished off his sentence. "Agent Hotchner, I was wondering how much of this you have to report back to the sheriff? It was a big risk letting your team into our school and I don't think informing anymore Muggles would be a good idea."

"I will have to tell him something." Hotch said.

"Just skate over the details." Septima suggested. "Tell him that an unidentified woman has been found dead and is possibly connected to the earlier killing. It's the truth."

"Leaving out all mention of Lucy and the school." Robert said skeptically. "Can you do that?"

"We could try." Hotch said slowly. "If we moved the bodies before morning, no one would have to know about Lucy. If Madame Pomfrey went with them, she and Dr Crawley could do the examinations quickly and quietly. It would have to be orchestrated well, but we could pull it off."

"Right then." Minerva said. "I shall tell Poppy to get ready."

"And I'm going to call Lucy's husband." Indira said. "I really don't think it can wait."

Once again, Indira found herself back in her office. She had been perfectly prepared to put this task off until the daytime. But then she couldn't stop putting herself in the shoes of Lucy's husband. If someone that she loved very dearly had been killed, then she would want to know about it. It wasn't fair to leave him in the dark and, in any case, Indira wasn't sure that she would be able to do it if she waited.

Taking a bag of powder off the mantlepiece, Indira knelt down beside the fire place. She sprinkled a pinch of the powder into the orange flames and then lent forward, lowering her face into the fire. A room came into view; there were lemon yellow walls, a tatty looking sofa and piles of boxes. This had to be the new apartment. Indira felt a twinge in her stomach. But she couldn't pull out now. With a small coughing noise, she announced her presence. A man came wondering into the room. He was tall, with neatly trimmed hair and a well groomed beard. He rubbed his eyes as he came over to fire.

"Hello, Ms Inkpen." the man said. "How can I help you?"

"It's about Lucy." Indira said slowly.

He must have caught on to her tone.

"What's happened?" he said quickly. "Has there been an accident? Do I need to come over?"

"I'm afraid," Indira took a breath, "I'm afraid that she's dead. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The man didn't speak for a long time. His face bore a look of confusion and disbelief.

"How?" he whispered, his voice rough.

"It is highly probable that she was murdered." Indira replied. "Certain, in fact."

"Oh God." he gasped. "Who would do this?"

"We don't know. But we're doing everything in our power to find out."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You'll probably need to answer some questions. You will be notified if this is the case."

Indira hated the sound of her voice, so bureaucratic, so emotionless. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much the young man was hurting. She had met him once, before the wedding. He seemed nice and the young couple had been so obviously in love. What was his name again, she tried to remember.

"James," she said softly, "I really am very sorry. If there's anything I can do-"

She trailed off. He nodded.

"Thank you for calling."

Indira pulled her head out of the fire. She checked her watch and sighed. It was time to go to bed. There were things to do, but the headmistress didn't care; the world could turn without her for awhile.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 **

Hastily dressed and barely able to keep her eyes open, Poppy Pomfrey once again found herself in the passenger seat of a black vehicle. Derek Morgan was driving and they were, once again, headed for the morgue.

"I'm sorry for the early start," Morgan said, his eyes focused on the road, "but we have to do this quickly if we don't want people to find out."

Poppy nodded. She was tired, but her job meant that she was used to being woken up at ungodly hours and having to deal with an emergency straight away. And this definitely constituted an emergency. If someone had told Poppy that one day she would assisting an FBI investigation, she would've laughed and told them not to be ridiculous. How could someone like her be any use? But here she was and somehow she was coping. Maybe it was her medical background that made it easier for her to distance herself emotionally. She could shut herself off whenever it got in the way. Thinking of little Lucy Whithers dead made her want to cry, but she was not dealing with Lucy, she was dealing with a body and she had seen many bodies in her lifetime.

They pulled up at the morgue. It was still dark, the only light coming from one of the windows. Clearly, the secrecy situation was being taken very seriously. Morgan ushered Poppy inside and they made their way to examination room, where all three bodies had been laid out. Seeing them all together made Poppy feel slightly sick; it reminded her of slabs of meat being sold in rows at a butcher's store. She shook the image from her mind and began to set up her bag. The doors to room were pushed open and in walked an irritable looking Dr Crawley, his hair ruffled. He straightened his coat and went over to the tables.

"At four o'clock in the morning," he grumbled, "this had better be the most exciting thing I've ever seen."

"Is seeing me again not a good enough thrill?" Poppy said teasingly.

"Oh," Dr Crawley said flatly, "You've brought the consultant."

"Her services are still required," Morgan explained.

The doctor didn't look happy about it, but he made no more complaints. He pulled on some gloves and began to look over the bodies.

"The younger woman," he said after awhile, "shows the same wounds as the first victim; stabbing and bite marks. But, as opposed to the first victim, the stab wounds are more prominent. In this first instance, it's hard to say whether the bites or stabs would have killed her, but I would confidently say that the second victim was killed as a result of repetitive stabbing. What do you think?"

His last question was addressed at Poppy, who hadn't really been paying attention.

"You seem to be doing fine without my input," she said.

"Well, you're the consultant, aren't you?" Dr Crawley said, slightly patronizingly, "I thought I might consult."

"Right," Poppy said, giving him a small glare, "Yes, that all sounds correct in my opinion."

Morgan smirked and mouthed something that looked like "feminine charm". Poppy rolled her eyes and mouthed "too early".

"The other woman definitely died from her stab wounds," the doctor continued, "She has no injuries to suggest that she was bitten by anything. However, unlike the others, there is evidence of her being attacked. Her cheek has grazing on it and her skull appears to be fractured. This points to her having fallen and hit her head on the ground. Given the position of her wounds, I should say that she was attacked from behind. It doesn't look as if she struggled, so I should say she wasn't expecting it."

He looked over at Poppy, who said, "that would fit, yes."

"If you're just going to confirm my theories," Dr Crawley said, "what are you here for?"

Poppy, who could have quite a temper when she wanted to, wasn't going to take that lying down.

"Well, I'm not here to snapped at and talked down to!" she exclaimed, looking him directly in the eyes. "I'm not sure I appreciate your tone."

"And I'm not sure I appreciate someone coming into my space like they own it," Dr Crawley shot back. "If I'm not doing a good enough job, I'd prefer you to just tell me."

"Stop being so dramatic. No one doubts your medical skills," Poppy said curtly. "I'm sure you can be a fairly good doctor, when you're in a better mood."

"At this point in the morning," Dr Crawley said angrily, "this _is _my good mood!"

"Alright, let's all just calm down," Morgan yelled.

Dr Crawley looked slightly abashed, though far from apologetic. Poppy wasn't quite ready to stop arguing, but she did anyway. Both of them stood facing Morgan like school children who had just been caught brawling in the playground.

"I would like to know what is going on," Dr Crawley said, his voice calm and deliberate.

"I'm authorized to tell him," Morgan said to Poppy.

She shrugged, "go ahead. He's not going to believe you."

So Poppy began her own examinations, whilst Morgan attempted to explain the world of magic to the bewildered doctor. It took quite some time, as Morgan himself was still rather sketchy on the details. When he had finished, Dr Crawley shook his head, a smile of disbelief on his face.

"I'm not completely stupid," he said.

"Told you," Poppy said in a sing-song voice.

Morgan sighed, "Poppy, can you show him? Set the table on fire or something?"

"I'm not a show pony," Poppy said indignantly, "If he doesn't want to believe it, then that's his problem and not mine."

Dr Crawley seemed like he was about to retaliate, when he stopped, his eyes wide, staring at the table. Poppy followed his gaze and then gasped. The body of the mystery woman had begun to transform. Her back had arched, her legs shrinking. Her face begun to melt forwards. All over her body, thick, white-brown hair had begun to grow. Soon the creature that lay on the table was no longer a woman; it was a wolf.

"Agent Morgan," Poppy said slowly, "I think I just found the source of your bite marks."

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, completely in shock.

"I believe your killer, what's the phrase, has a partner."

"Correction," Dr Crawley said, his voice shaking, "_Had _a partner."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! My gift to you is this chapter :) Sorry it's taken so long to update! Thanks for sticking around.

**Chapter 16 **

"She's an Animagus," Poppy explained to the confused group of Muggles before her.

After the sudden transformation of the woman on the table, Morgan had called Hotch and got the BAU team down to the morgue to see it for themselves, with the exception of Garcia who stayed to continue searching. Reid had found it extremely fascinating, but the rest were all a bit bewildered.

"And what is an Ani-whatever it is?" Rossi sighed, not even attempting to hide his confusion.

He had been roused from about fifteen minutes of sleep to come down here and the lack of coffee in his system was beginning to show.

"An Animagus," Reid said, "is a witch or wizard who can morph themselves at will into an animal form. It requires a lot of training and only extremely skilled and powerful wizards can do it."

"Like Minerva," Poppy nodded, "She's a cat. And this woman is a wolf."

"Right," Hotch said, walking forward, his face in a frown.

He had been silent since their arrival, his eyes scanning the scene, processing all the new information. What he had thought was the unsub had in actuality been unsubs. Now he was back to dealing with one and this person was dangerous. They had killed three times and one of their victims had probably been working with them; there was no loyalty.

"Where does this put us?" JJ asked, bringing Hotch back to the present situation.

"Well, if this woman was a partner, which seems likely, why was she killed? Why were they working together? Who is she?" Hotch said, "And why was Lucy Whithers killed? Is she connected to Amber or were the attacks random? And, either way, who's next on the hit list?"

"So, just more questions," Prentiss sighed, "with no foreseeable answers."

"Not necessarily," Morgan said, "We have another link in the chain, something to look into. This women could give the information we need in order to find the unsub."

"If we ever work out who she is," Rossi replied.

At that moment the doors to the morgue were pushed open and Rolanda bounced in, balancing several take-away drink trays full of coffee cups.

"Muggle coffee-shops are fascinating!" she trilled, as she began distributing her wares, oblivious to the stares from all the others, "I didn't know it was so complicated! I've signed up for a barrister course!"

"Barista, darling," Poppy corrected, "A barrister is a lawyer."

"Oh, I've signed up for one of those too!" Rolanda beamed enthusiastically, "Did you know I could be practicing in only seven years?"

"A delightful thought," Poppy muttered, taking a cup from her friend.

"But, I locked the door," Dr Crawley muttered, as Poppy passed him a coffee.

"My dear," Poppy replied dryly, "she is a witch with a wand and no sense of boundaries. You could have guarded the entrance with Bengali Tigers and she still would've found a way in."

"Yep, absolutely no sense of boundaries," Rolanda agreed with a smile, taking a gulp from her own coffee cup.

Her hands were slightly shaky, which prompted Poppy to ask the question, "Rolanda, how many of those have you had?"

"Oh, just a few," Rolanda shrugged, "a mocha, latte, cappuccino. Oh, you must try a cappuccino! It's like drinking Christmas!"

"I bet it is," Poppy said, taking the drink away from the other witch's hand.

Rolanda calmed down a bit when she turned around and caught sight of the bodies. Her grin melted away and her whole body tensed. Poppy went to her and placed an arm gently around her shoulder. Rolanda had this reputation for joking and not really taking anything seriously, but Poppy had stood beside her during the Second Wizarding War. She had seen the way her friend had changed; how Rolanda had reacted to the news of their comrades becoming casualties, how she had stayed silent for days on end, how her eyes had hardened with righteous anger. Of all the people that weren't qualified to deal with death, Poppy knew Rolanda would take it the hardest.

"So Lucy was always the intended target," Rolanda said quietly, after a while staring at the forms on the table.

"What makes you say that?" Hotch asked quickly.

"She was stabbed more than she was bitten," Rolanda replied, speaking as though she wasn't entirely sure of herself, "which means the one with the knife did the most work, making it seem as though the attack was personal. The wolf woman was an accomplice, correct? Then after Lucy's death, she was disposed of, which seems to indicate she was no longer necessary. The killer had achieved their goal."

There was stunned silence.

"What?" Rolanda said indignantly, "I passed my O.W.L.s! Despite popular belief, I do display basic intelligence from time to time."

"It's a feasible theory," Rossi said, "Amber could have been a trial run, to make sure it was going to work."

"Maybe," Hotch said, his voice distant, lost in thought, "maybe. We should get back to the school and fill in everyone else. Maybe Garcia has got something from security cameras."

The sun had risen when the team left the morgue. Morgan, Rolanda and Poppy were the last ones to leave and the latter seemed reluctant to do so.

"What about Dr Crawley?" Poppy said, stopping before she got in to the car, "I mean, his memory, do I need to erase it?"

"Oh, I forgot!" Rolanda said, "Indira says to leave him. She thinks it would be good to have a contact in Muggle law enforcement, in case anything else happens."

"I think I should stay with him," Poppy said.

"Alright," Morgan said with a smirk, "Has your feminine charm woken up then?"

Poppy gave him a mean look.

"I just feel sorry for him. He still seems like he's in shock."

"I'll try to believe you," Morgan said, "See you later."


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **I suck, I know! I haven't updated this in a long time and I keep making A/N apologies, which must get really annoying! Sorry again. I'll get better. Eventually...

**Chapter 17 **

When everyone had left for the morgue, Garcia had stayed at her computers. Indeed, she had been there since the group meeting last afternoon. Septima had showed her some of the areas that the students like to go to, including the souvenir shop that acted as a gateway to the magical shopping world. Garcia obviously couldn't find a security camera inside there, but she had located two from shops on either side, giving her a view of the shop. After she had sourced cameras for all the locations, she had gone through tapes from a day before Ambers death right up until yesterday, after the discovery of Lucy Whithers.

It was Amber that she found first, the video showing her on the morning of her murder. She was walking towards the souvenir shop, her face appearing relaxed, although the image was somewhat pixelated. Off her arm was swinging the same pink bag that had been strewn across her mangled body. Garcia shivered. Did the girl have any idea of what was to come? She looked blissfully unaware, a child walking to town, that bag almost mocking every step she took. It was this part of the job that Garcia hated; watching the victims as they lived, knowing they wouldn't last, wanting to help, wanting to stop what had already happened. She wished she could reach in and rearrange the situation. Garcia sighed, fast forwarding through the footage. Sometimes her caring heart was a disadvantage.

It was about three minutes later that Lucy Whithers appeared on her screen, walking into the souvenir shop, not so long after Amber had. Garcia leaned a little closer, praying for a miracle. And then, lo and behold, the mystery woman walked in. All three stayed for a little long than an hour and then, at random intervals, they walked out of the souvenir shop, Lucy, the woman and finally Amber. Garcia paused the video in excitement; this couldn't be a coincidence. The moment that Hotch walked through the door, she stood up and ran over to him as fast as her heels allowed.

"Sir, I think I've found something," she said.

She led him and the rest of the group to the computers.

"I've found Amber entering into the souvenir shop on the morning of the day she was murdered," Garcia explained, "Lucy and the woman too. This might not be significant, as it is the main entrance to the magical district and, hey, everyone loves to shop, but they all enter within minutes of each other, stay for around an hour and then leave. It feels like too much of a coincidence for it to actually be one."

Hotch nodded.

"I agree. We'll definitely have to find out where they were going. The woman could've been watching the victims for her partner."

"Do we know who she is then?" Garcia asked.

Hotch shook his head and then explained, to the best of his ability, the happenings at the morgue. Garcia seemed less thrilled about the break through and more excited about the fact that wizards could turn into animals at will.

"That is so cool!" she gushed, "I would totally be a bird. Or a dolphin. Maybe a lemur!"

"Before you become an entire zoo," Hotch interrupted, "could we try to solve this case?"

"Sorry, sir," Garcia said, sitting down, "I'll be professional."

Reid stepped forward.

"How far back have you looked?" he asked, "I'd check back a few weeks or more, to see if any patterns emerge."

They watched as Garcia sped backward through time, running through days in a matter of minutes. After a while, Reid pointed at the screen.

"There," he said.

The woman had gone into the shop, as had Amber and Lucy. Garcia kept rolling back, a smile forming on her face.

"You are good, Kid Genius," she said, "It seems that every first Sunday of the month, all three women go to the magical district at the same time and leave at the same time. It's like clockwork."

"So we can assume they're meeting, or at least attending the same event," JJ chimed in, "but where and why?"

Hotch turned to look at the two Salem staff that stood there, Indira and Robert.

"Do you know where they were going?" he asked.

Robert shook his head.

"Most people go out on a Sunday. It wouldn't have been noted as suspicious."

Indira also shook her head, but it was less sure than her colleague's. Her eyes were focused on Garcia's computer screen, where the image of the unknown woman was frozen. Suddenly she let out a gasp and clutched at Robert's arm.

"I know where I've seen her," Indira whispered, "Do you remember that reporter?"

Robert's eyes lit up with understanding.

"Of course," he said.

"Reporter?" Hotch asked quickly.

"She said she was a reporter," Robert explained, "She came around here the other day, claiming she was doing a report on modern teaching methods. We sent her away. At the Institute, we value the privacy of our students and staff."

He seemed to reconsider that statement, perhaps thinking of recent events.

"Well, most of the time," he added.

"Do you remember her name?"

"Mary, I think," Indira said, "Mary Holden. She said she worked for the Spell Caster Chronicles. That's our local newspaper."

"So this journalist decided to make the news," Morgan said skeptically.

"Or it's a cover," Hotch nodded, "Either way, we should go and check out the newspaper. They'll be able to confirm the story."

"Or deny it."

It was decided that a group would be sent right away to interview the staff at the Spell Caster Chronicles. Indira offered to be the magical guide. JJ was to go with her. Hotch and Robert were organizing an interview with Lucy's widower. All in all, everybody thought they had made progress and for the first time, things were looking up. They went to their tasks with a renewed sense of purpose, hoping the day's blessings would not be over yet.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 **

Indira decided to wear a dark grey skirt suit today. The tone perhaps reflected the somber task she had, but also helped to blend in with the Muggle crowd. She was escorting Agent Jareau to the magical district, something the FBI agent wouldn't have been able to do on her own. They were going to walk there, both women agreeing they could do with the fresh air in the still relatively early morning. Indira walked up the stairs, her heels clicking against the metal, her hands in her pockets. She stood by herself for a while, staring out at everything around. The day was so still, the sky a clear blue, not even a breath of a breeze stirring the air. It was the complete anthesis of what was going on in Indira's head. She had tried to sleep, it never came, despite the exhaustion she felt. She couldn't stop thinking about Lucy, about how young she was, about how wonderful she was. The girl had spent most of her career under Indira's wing and now the senior witch couldn't imagine doing her job without her. It had been like hell this morning, telling the rest of the staff and the student body about the death. Amber had hit them hard and they were barely on their feet again when this blow had sent them tumbling to the ground again. There had been silence for almost a full minute and Indira, who couldn't take it, had had to leave the hall.

Now Indira stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for JJ to join her. The younger woman came only five minutes later and they departed for the magical district, falling into step beside each other. Both had their hands in their pockets, despite the fact that the sun was shining. As they turned a corner, Indira noticed how her companion was frowning.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Indira said, her voice slow and measured, "but I had figured that it was part of your training to learn not to blame yourself."

JJ gave a small laugh and threw her head backwards, gazing up at the sky.

"Can you magic people read minds now?" she said.

"I'm a teacher," Indira said, "I've seen years and years of self-doubt. Although I can read minds when I want to."

JJ, unsure whether she was joking or not, just smiled and nodded. Then she sighed.

"It's basically the first thing they teach you when you apply to the Bureau," she explained, "If something goes wrong, you can not blame yourself. And I don't, not usually and not now. But there's always a tiny bit of doubt, isn't there? Always that little voice that says "what if you were there, Jennifer? What if you had made it on time?" I can't help but feel that I could've done something. I liked Lucy. I liked her a lot."

"You're the profiler," Indira said, "Tell me, is the person we're looking for at all dangerous?"

"Very."

"Then I suppose we should be thankful that we weren't there. The body count could've been much higher."

JJ nodded, though there was still a little bitterness in her expression.

"There is always that." she said quietly.

They made their way to the souvenir shop that acted as the entrance to the magical world. It was called "Magic Mementos" and was a medium sized building with painted black bricks. JJ followed Indira as the older woman pushed open the shop door, curious as to what would happen. There was the sound of a bell as they stepped inside. JJ looked around and was slightly disappointed. On the shelves were tiny models of various buildings from around the city, as well as keychains and various witchcraft related items, all designed for tourists who had too much time and money to spend. It was currently devoid of customers. Indira must've sensed JJ's disappointment, because she whispered, "you ain't seen nothing yet, kid" and went off towards one of the display racks, a smile on her face. She went over to the key rings and scanned up and down the rows. She took one down and walked back to JJ, swinging the ring around on her finger. It was a simple silver chain and the charm attached to it was, actually, a key, a small golden one. JJ blinked and looked back at the rack; she hadn't seen those for sale. Indira gave a small laugh and went over to the counter. The youth standing there, a tall, gangly young man with black hair that was far too long, looked up as she approached.

"Just this," Indira said sweetly, placing the key down.

The youth looked down at the key and then up at JJ, his eyes filled with a questioning look.

"She's with me," Indira said in response.

He nodded and said "two then."

Indira reached into her coat pocket and pulled out two coins. At first JJ thought they were normal American dollar coins, but she noticed they were slightly smaller and, when Indira handed them to the man, they appeared to shine with a slight purple hue.

"American Wizarding Dollars," Indira whispered to the Muggle as the money was deposited in the till.

The key was handed back and then, to JJ's surprise, Indira started to walk towards the changing rooms. The man behind the counter didn't blink an eyelid at this, so JJ ran after her. When they had turned the corner into the row of changing rooms, each small cubicle covered with a pale blue curtain, Indira stopped and turned to JJ.

"You're going to have to hold my hand for a bit," she said, "Muggles can't see certain things, so you're probably going to feel a little disorientated."

She held out her hand.

"Do you trust me?"

JJ gave a grin and took it.

"Do I have any choice?" she said.

Indira laughed.

"No, not really."

The witch led JJ towards the end of the row. She got to the full length mirror that hung on the grey wall that signaled the boundaries of the changing room. Then she kept walking. Right through the mirror. JJ almost let go in surprise, but felt her companion's fingers tighten around her own as the older woman glided through the glass. JJ followed, watching, with a slight tingle of fear, as her own hand slipped through the mirror, the reflection eating up the reality, merging them together. She felt a weight on her arm as it passed through, like something was trying to keep her out; given what Indira had told her, perhaps something was. As her body went through, it was squeezed and, for a moment, JJ was sure she had stopped breathing. When she made it to the other side it was like stepping off a crowded train, into the fresh air.

The other side of the wall could've been an extension of the changing rooms. The same grey walls stretched out, at the end of which was a door. Indira dropped the agent's hand and looked at her with a gentle smile.

"Make it through okay?" she inquired.

"Yeah," JJ nodded, slightly out of breath, "I'm fine."

"If you don't mind my asking," Indira said, "what did you see?"

"A mirror?" JJ replied, confused.

"Ah, of course," Indira said, "Logical."

"You mean you couldn't see it?" JJ said incredulously.

"No," Indira said, as it was the most normal thing in the world, "that's magic for you."

She walked to the end and pushed the key she had purchased into the keyhole of the door.

Beckoning for JJ to come closer, she said, "this will take us to the magical district."

Then, sounding hopeful, she added, "you've never travelled by Floo powder, have you?"

JJ shook her head.

"Probably just as well," Indira said, "This isn't exactly the same thing; since there's only one destination the powder incantation isn't required."

She turned the key and pulled open the door, then took the key out again and slipped it into her pocket. The door opened onto what looked like a tiny cupboard, covered in black marble tiles. Upon looking inside, JJ saw there was no floor or ceiling. She turned to Indira, a look of acute apprehension on her face.

"Nothing to worry about," Indira said warmly, "Just step in and it will do the rest. I'll be right behind you."

Still rather unsure, JJ took a deep breath and took a step into the room, one foot after another, as if she was jumping into a swimming pool. However, instead of falling, she found herself being pulled upwards and, before she knew it, she was swirling and tumbling around in darkness, completely unable to tell where she was going.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 **

He sat there staring a them, his trophies, his treasures; three wands lined in a row. The first was broken, cracked by his brute strength. The other two were perfect still, except for the blood that covered the third, lacing through the grain of the wood. Their owners were all dead now. He had done what he had set out to do. So why didn't he feel any better? She was dead, she who had betrayed him. Shouldn't he have felt better? He picked up the second wand and gave it a wave, though nothing happened. Then, anger burning his insides, he took the wand over to one of the chairs that surrounded his kitchen table. Placing the wand across the wooden back of the chair, he put his hands on opposing sides of the wand and pressed down with all his might. After a while, the wood of the wand began to splinter and then it snapped. He held up the two pieces, still strung together by a thin, silver hair. How amusing it was that these great, powerful, _divine_, magical objects could be broken so easily.

The experience of traveling through the "Flu Network" or whatever Indira had called it, was not one that JJ was going to forget quickly. After a minute or so of tossing and turning, JJ wasn't sure she'd be able to go much further without throwing up. Luckily for her, a few seconds later, everything stopped and she was thrown out of an opening, almost falling on to the floor of the room she had been deposited into. Looking around, it seemed that she was in some of kind train station; the ceiling stretched up to a great height, there were what looked like ticket booths arranged in the centre of the room and there was a slight cloudy haze hanging in the air. But there were no trains, only the strange openings like the one that JJ had just come through. Indira followed her a few seconds later, though her entrance was much more graceful than her companion's. Placing one heeled foot on the hard wood floor as she was forced outwards, Indira simply broke into a fast walk.

"You survived then," Indira smiled as JJ walked beside her.

"Only just," JJ said, "How do you travel like that all the time?"

"One gets used to it," Indira shrugged, "Or, at least, one gets better at pretending they are."

She continued to walk with purpose towards the ticket booths, stopping in front of one with a middle aged man wearing a pale blue uniform, similar in colour to the changing room curtains from the shop. He smiled as they approached.

"Ms Inkpen," the man said warmly, "I hope you are well this morning?"

"Perfectly, thank you, Alf," Indira said, "I'm just showing my friend the sights. She's new in town."

"Well welcome," Alf said to JJ, "How are you liking Salem?"

"It's been educational," JJ smiled, shooting Indira a knowing look.

Alf nodded, not entirely understanding. Then he returned his focus to the witch, a more serious look on his face.

"I was deeply grieved to hear about the tragedy at the school," he said in a loud whisper.

JJ's eyes flicked over to Indira, who had temporarily frozen.

"Sorry?" she said in clipped voice.

Both women shared the same thought; how did he know about the killings?

"The young girl," Alf replied, still in a conspiratorial hush.

"Oh, of course," Indira said slowly, "It's been a hard time for everyone. We must be going, but it was very nice to see you again."

She took the key that she had purchased out of her pocket and handed it to Alf before walking away quickly, with JJ right behind her. She ran some fingers through her greying fringe and exhaled quickly.

"For a second, I thought -" she said.

"-I know," JJ cut in, "We can't keep the deaths secret forever, not from the magic community anyway, but any thing we can conceal for the time being is going to help."

"You think?" Indira said, "I can't speak for our reporter, but Lucy had friends. It's going to hurt when it comes out."

"That can't be helped," JJ said, her agent training setting in, "We've told those closest to her and it's all we can do, without putting your world at risk. It could also buy us more time if the UnSub doesn't know how far we've gotten."

Indira sighed and nodded.

"Is your job always like this?" she asked, "So much smoke and mirrors?"

JJ shook her head.

"Nope. Typically, we have a fully trained police squad at our disposal, we have masses of online catalogued data and we appeal to anybody who could help us. Typically. But this isn't exactly typical."

"No, I guess not."

The two woman walked out of the building and into the open air. Immediately, JJ was caught in an explosion of the senses; so many sights, sounds and smells that were completely unfamiliar and completely wonderful. The buildings were all of different shapes and sizes, not to mention colours; bright oranges and pastel greens clashed with deep purples and midnight blacks. The cobblestone road was paved with a light, almost rose colour brick and Victorian-style streetlamps lined the sidewalk. People, dressed as eclectically as the buildings, walked up and down, robes swishing along the ground, pointed hats reaching up to the sky. JJ couldn't help but stare at the woman who wore a blue bird attached to her hat (partly due to the fact that the bird appeared to be moving). Puffs of smokes pushed their way through shop doors, street vendors yelled slogans, selling products to solve problems the special agent didn't know existed. Pulling herself away from a demonstration on "The Greatest De-Gnoming Technique Since Just About Ever", JJ caught up with Indira, who had gone ahead. How the witch could wander through a place like this without even looking, she could not comprehend; although, it must've been pretty ordinary from her point of view.

They came to a building that was gold in colour. It was a square shape, the corners rounded off. A large, glittery star was stuck on the front, the same gold colour as the walls, with the words "Spell Caster Chronicles" engraved in it.

"This is us," Indira said, going up to the doors.

Inside the Chronicle building was much colder than the temperature outside, the air-conditioning (or magical equivalent, JJ guessed) cranked up to full volume. The floor was tiled, leading up to a large wooden desk. A glass pane constituted the back wall and through it JJ could see a large printing press. It looked exactly like the ones she had seen before, although, on closer inspection, some of the cranks and handles were moving on their own. A woman sat at the desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment. She looked up as the two witches approached.

"Hello," Indira said with a smile, "Could we speak to whoever's in charge, please?"

The woman nodded and flicked through a notebook.

"I'm afraid our editor is in a meeting," she apologised, "But I could get you our deputy?"

Indira glanced over at JJ, who said that would be fine; all they really needed was someone who would have a good overview of everyone working for them. The woman wrote out a note and then folded it up into a small paper plane. JJ watched in amazement as the woman brought out a wand, tapped her creation and then threw it up in the air. As opposed to falling straight back down, as the Muggle had expected it to, the plane continued to soar, flying off to somewhere in the building. JJ grinned, she just couldn't help herself.

A few minutes later, a rather large young man came to the desk, where he was pointed towards the visitors. He came over and then stopped in surprise.

"Ms Inkpen," he said, standing a little straighter.

"At ease, George," Indira said jokingly, "It's very nice to see you again."

"Likewise, Ma'am," George said, "How may I help you?"

"We've come to inquire about a Mary Holden?" Indira said, "She apparently works for you."

George frowned.

"I don't believe I know that name," he said, "Of course, some of our writers are freelance, so you can't always keep track of them. Still, it doesn't sound familiar."

JJ stepped forward.

"It could be an alias," she explained, "But I have a picture here."

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out some of stills Garcia had taken of the security footage. George took them from her and had a look, his face changing as he looked.

"This isn't Mary Holden," he said, "This is Meredith Hennessy."

"Are you sure?" Indira asked.

"Of course," George replied, "She's a private investigator. A bit too underhand for my liking, if you know what I mean. Sometimes she comes here to talk to the writers, find out what they know. If she's gotten into some sort of trouble, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh she's in some sort of trouble alright," Indira muttered, "Thanks, George."

"Anytime, Ma'am," he said, "Meredith has a address in the Old Town, so if you're looking for her, I'd try there."

Indira nodded and thanked him for his time. Then the women left the Chronicles.

"He seemed a little scared of you," JJ commented.

"Ex-pupil," Indira explained with a smile, "I tend to have that effect on them."

"So, to the Old Town?" JJ suggested.

Indira nodded her agreement.

"To the Old Town."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry! Life gets way too busy! I've just finished being in the school production and my practice exams are coming up, so I haven't had much time. Sorry, sorry, sorry, thanks for sticking around, please enjoy :)

**Chapter 20 **

The Old Town was connected to the east side of the magical district. It was easy to tell as you got closer, for the buildings began to get cracked and dusty, the bricks faded and the glass panes in the windows covered with dirt. Even in the early morning, it seemed that shadows lurked around most corners, mixing in with a silence that hung about, a silence that one could imagine came from many years ago and had stood its ground ever since. JJ shivered; she had been to many strange places before, but this place had to be up there. It was the emptiness that unnerved her, the realization that this place was only a few steps away from the hustle and bustle of the magical district. JJ shook her head and began to walk a little faster.

Indira led the way around the streets, watching out for the address that had been given to her. She had just turned her head one way when her companion yelled, "there!"

Tucked away, down a little side alley, was a shop with black awnings and chipping words painted on the front window, _Hennessy and Associates_. It had a black door with a silver knocker on it, though the silver was so dull it could've been more accurately described as grey. Indira went up to it and pushed on the door. Locked.

"It seems _Hennessy and Associates_ is not open for business today," she sighed.

JJ examined the door.

"I could probably break this lock," she said, "if there's nothing magical that is. But I don't know the procedure for this kind of thing under wizard law."

"One probably has to climb a mountain of useless bureaucratic paper work," Indira grumbled shoving her hands in her pockets and exhaling slowly, "Can't we just say we've got one of those warrant things?"

"Yeah," JJ replied doubtfully, "In my experience, for that to work, you generally have to have the warrant."

The two women deliberated for a second, then Indira turned to JJ, a gleam in her eyes.

"The use of force or magic to break this door would be justified in case of emergencies, I'm sure," she mused.

JJ nodded, "I'm sure."

"Then, as a concerned citizen, if I was to hear, say, a distress call coming from inside a building, it would be my civil duty to try and help."

JJ nodded again, "of course. Hold on, do you hear that?"

"What?" Indira said flatly, "The sound of a desperate and urgent cry for help coming from behind this door?"

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," JJ grinned, "Do the honours."

Indira took out her wand and pointed it at the door with a violent swipe. The metal around the lock glowed, then there was a spark and the door swung open. Cautiously, Indira stepped inside, followed by JJ, both looking out for any traps. Not finding any, Indira put her wand away.

"No one here," she said with a shrug, "Oh well, we all make mistakes."

And she promptly proceeded to walk into the main room.

The room they entered into was not one, in JJ's opinion, that inspired total confidence in the job that could be done. There was dust in most places, books lying open on the counter, the smell of mothballs drifting around. There was one faded red, leather sofa in the corner, which had a spring poking out of it, unable to be hidden by the pillow that had been haphazardly thrown over it. JJ glanced at Indira, whose pursed lips seemed to say the same thing JJ was thinking.

"It's not exactly appetizing," Indira remarked, gingerly picking up a candy wrapper from the front desk and then letting it fall down again.

"No," JJ said, screwing her nose up, "I can't say this would be the first place I'd come to have my deepest fears and suspicions investigated."

"Well, she lives dirty, I dare say she's not afraid to play dirty," Indira said, "Now, what are we looking for?"

"Records," JJ said, going over to a shelf and beginning to look through the files that sat there, "Anything that could tell us what Hennessy was doing there."

Indira went to the desk and pulled open one of the books. It appeared to be an accounts book, though, looking at the numbers, business hadn't been great lately. Pushing it aside, she opened a small, leather bound diary and skimmed some of the pages. Her finger stopped on a Sunday and she noticed a little star drawn at the corner of the page. Flicking back, she saw that all the Sundays, going back about six months, had been marked this way.

"Something was going on," she said out loud, "She's been marking Sundays in this diary."

"Any word entries?" JJ asked, coming over to look.

Indira turned some more pages.

"The last one was a couple of weeks before she started putting stars in," she said, "It's just some initials. "V.S.""

JJ took the diary and examined it for herself.

"I think that's how she identifies her appointments," the agent explained, "There hadn't been a lot. V.S was the first in a while."

"Well, it's a recession," Indira muttered.

The witch looked around and walked over to a curtain that hung off the wall. She pulled it back to reveal another room, all the walls lined with shelves.

"I'm going to have a look through here," Indira said.

All the shelves were filled with files, folders and boxes of different shapes and sizes. A large pair of metal filing cabinets were at the back, against the wall, and a large table took up most of the space in the centre. On the table were more files, some broken quills, a screwed up newspaper and an old bottle of Firewhisky with a half-full glass sitting beside it. Indira went over and began scanning the table. The first file that lay on top was labeled "V.S."

"Agent Jareau," Indira called, "Look at this."

JJ came in and Indira slid her the file. While JJ sorted through the various bits of paper, Indira had a look through the filing cabinets. She had finished the last compartment, when she felt something lumpy hiding at the bottom. What she pulled out was a white package. Lifting up the already open flap, she let out a gasp. JJ raised her head and Indira showed her its contents; stacks of Muggle notes and rolls of Wizarding Dollars.

"Woah, okay," JJ said, "I'm going to guess that wasn't written in her books?"

"No, it was not," Indira nodded, "Merlin's beard, I could retire on this! Where did she get it?"

"Maybe Vivienne Stavros could tell us?"

"Who?" Indira said quickly, dropping the package.

"Vivienne Stavros," JJ repeated, holding up a piece of paper, "There's some kind of contract here, signed by her."

Indira's brow furrowed and her hands tensed. JJ looked concerned.

"Do you know her?" she asked.

"Yes," Indira said blankly, "Her daughter goes to my school. She's on the board of governors."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **After a long absence, I have finally gotten around to writing more of this story. I know it's been going for a while, so thanks for those who continue to stick around, despite my unreliability. The reason I haven't written this in a while is that I was extremely sad when Erin Strauss died. She was my favourite character and I couldn't bring myself to watch it with out her, now that there would never be a chance of her being with Rossi. But I've recovered and have taken the time to show you that this story is still alive!

**Chapter 21**

Robert McGonagall carried a glass of water over to the desk and placed it down. He sat down again on his seat, as the man who faced opposite him shakily took the drink and had a sip. James Grey, husband of the late Lucy Whithers, looked awful. He had dark rings around his eyes, which were red from crying. His hands had not stop clenching since he had arrived at the school. Robert gave him a small, condoling smile, knowing that nothing he did would make the slightest bit of difference right now. He glanced over at Agent Hotchner, who sat next to him. The professional's face was straight, no hint of pain or emotion showing; was that the truth, Robert wondered, or was it simply a mask, one that had been created and perfected after years of sitting on this side of the table?

"I'm sorry to have to call on you in a time like this," Hotch said, his calm voice giving some credibility to the statement, "but it is essential that we get all the information that we can."

James put the glass down, nodding.

"I understand," he said, his voice harsh and strained, "And I want to help."

He swallowed.

"Lucy would want me to help."

Hotch opened the file that had been in front of him and spread out some pictures. They were stills of the security footage Garcia had found, one showing Amber and the other showing the mystery woman.

"Do you know either of these people?" Hotch inquired.

James tilted his head, his eyes studying each picture carefully. He lingered on the mystery woman for a second, showing perhaps a sign of recognition, but then he moved. He only glanced at Amber for a second.

"The girl is, was, a student here," he said, "Lucy knew her quite well, I think. The woman..."

He trailed off.

"Yes?" Hotch said, prompting him.

"I'm not sure," was James's response, "I feel like I've seen her before, but I couldn't give you a time or place."

"Sorry I can't be more helpful," he added.

Robert gave him a smile, hoping to show that anything James had to contribute was valued. He had a great admiration for what the young man was doing; in his mind, it showed strength and an integrity to his wife that was very touching.

"Did Lucy have any enemies?" Hotch asked, "Anybody who didn't like her or would wish her harm?"

"No!" James cried immediately, "No, everybody who knew her loved her. Well, my family did, at one point, hate her, but that's all forgotten now. They wouldn't want to hurt her."

Hotch wasn't going to let that go.

"Why did your family hate her?" he said.

James looked down at the table, unwilling to speak. When he finally did, he seemed rather ashamed.

"She's Muggle-born," he said, in almost a whisper.

Robert closed his eyes for a second and gave a curt nod of understanding. Hotch, however, looked confused.

"She had parents who were not magical," Robert explained to him.

"Does that make a difference?" Hotch said.

"No!" both wizards cried at once.

"Though some people think it does," Robert added in a dark tone.

"My parents," James admitted, "The Greys have been entirely Pureblood for as long as anybody can remember. So, you can imagine there was a bit of shock when I announced I was engaged to a Muggle-born."

Hotch nodded; though it took many forms, prejudice always looked the same in the end and he had seen plenty of it during his career.

"But they've come to accept it," James continued quickly, "None of my family would want Lucy hurt, if only for my sake."

He looked down at his glass and sighed, "she was something else, my Lucy."

Robert smiled, though it was tinged with sadness; here was a man who was clearly in love, something the world didn't have enough of. It was so cruel to see it taken away. Robert had seen plenty of that in his life time, his sister's Muggle ex-fiance and late husband springing to mind. The death of Elphinstone Urquart was the only time that Robert could remember Minerva ever being completely overcome with emotion. Upon being told of his passing, something not entirely unexpected but still unfortunate, she had fallen to the ground and not spoken for the remainder of the day, almost, to Robert's eye, appearing to not breathe. He'd poked his head around her door later in the day, to find her curled up on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. It had been heartbreaking. Robert flicked his eyes over the solemn face of James Grey and suspected that he too had spent time alone in his room.

Meanwhile, Hotch was continuing with the interview.

"All three of our victims went to the Magical District at the same time every Sunday," he said, "Do you have any idea why Lucy might have done that?"

James looked surprised.

"Of course," he exclaimed, "She helps to run a support group. They meet on a Sunday. It's how she knew Amber. I thought you'd know?"

Robert shook his head; he'd never asked Lucy and, as he thought back, she'd never mentioned it.

"Lucy was fairly private about it," James said.

"What was the support group for?" asked Hotch.

"It was aimed at helping Squibs and their family members," James said, "You know, getting them where they need to be, helping them adjust."

Robert nodded. He remembered, from a conversation he had had with her parents some time ago, that Amber's brother was a Squib. She'd apparently been going to these meetings to try and help him; the girl rose immediately in Robert's estimation.

"What is a Squib?" Hotch said.

Robert had completely forgotten that he wouldn't know.

"It's a non-magical child born to magic parents," he explained, "Like the opposite of a Muggle-born wizard."

Suddenly Robert sat up straight, his eyes widening. He turned to Hotch, who was staring at him with interest.

"And it explains a lot," Robert whispered.


End file.
